


against the dying of the light

by televangelists



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, faith pines over buffy a lot so it's basically canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/televangelists/pseuds/televangelists
Summary: Deep down, Faith knows that she should have expected this. The dream of Buffy falling through the sky didn’t repeat itself every night for nothing. It was a warning. A message.But no dream in existence could have prepared Faith to live in a world where Buffy Summers is dead. It doesn’t seem possible to her.[Buffy dies. Faith returns.]
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Comments: 49
Kudos: 337





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> part one of a five-chapter season six au that i wrote because faith should have been brought back at the beginning of s6 and become a series regular with her name in the credits and i will die on that hill

Faith Lehane has been in prison for a year and a half, and she’s made peace with it. 

She’s fallen into the rhythm of prison, the constant  _ eat sleep work therapy think about what she’s done.  _ She’s sunken into the routine and let it swallow her whole, because this is where she belongs. This is what she deserves. She’s paying for her past mistakes, doing it the right way this time. 

The food is terrible and the days are all similar and the other inmates are annoying, but she has three meals a day and a place to sleep, and that’s more than she had when she was on the streets of Boston. She has work to do, and she keeps herself in shape by doing pull ups and crunches in her cell. 

Angel visits her sometimes, and it’s nice to have the company, to know that there’s one person out there who still hasn’t given up on her. They sit on opposite sides of the glass, phones pressed against their ears, and talk about nothing in particular. Sometimes words aren’t even necessary.

They never talk about Buffy, and Faith can’t tell if that’s good or bad. 

Faith knows that she’ll be in prison for years to come, and in a corner of her mind she dreads it, but she’s come to terms with it. She understands now that this is how she makes things right.

Faith Lehane is doing alright.

//

The dreams start when she’s been in prison for a year and a half and about two weeks. 

Faith wakes in a sweat one night, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling of her cell as she tries to remember what she saw. She was dreaming of a sky torn wide open, a crumbling tower, a girl falling from the heavens in a flash of gold. 

And she heard Buffy’s voice. 

_ Be brave. Live. For me. _

Faith gets out of the bed and sits on the cold stone floor, pressing her back against the wall and closing her eyes. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. 

She feels a heaviness in her bones, the strange sensation of a crushing weight pressing down on her. Something isn’t right; it’s like a part of the universe has shifted out of position. She has no idea how, but she knows somewhere deep inside her that something is irrevocably wrong. 

“It was just a dream,” she whispers to herself, and she repeats it over and over. She falls asleep against the cell wall, her lips still forming the words. 

//

The dream keeps coming. Every night Faith is plagued by visions of the sky, the tower, the golden-haired girl falling through space. She holds on to Buffy’s voice, replaying what she says even though the meaning of the words is unknown to her. 

Faith tries to get rid of the dream. She tries to tire herself out, to exhaust herself and force her mind to sleep as soundly as her body does. She starts doing more workouts, more physical labor, and she stops resisting the challenges issued to her by the other inmates. 

She makes sure never to start the fights - she’s not about to get herself booked with extra time for disorderly conduct - but when the newest inmates decide to try kicking her tires, she gives twice as good as she gets. She sends them away with bloody noses and black eyes, and wipes the blood off of her knuckles with a sense of fulfillment. 

It’s not Slaying, but the violence is still satisfying. 

Faith is in her cell a few days after the dreams began, doing her second set of a hundred sit ups to try and distract herself from the sinking feeling that something is wrong, when one of the guards knocks on her door.

“Lehane, you’ve got a visitor,” he says, and Faith jumps to her feet. It has to be Angel, and she’s eager to talk to him. She’s sure that he’ll have some kind of answer for why everything feels so wrong these days. Faith follows the guard to the visitation area and sits down in front of the window, and then she stops dead because it’s not Angel on the other side of the glass.

It’s Willow.

Faith frowns at her through the glass. She hasn’t seen the girl for a year and a half but she looks the same, timid and soft and half hidden behind her curtain of red hair. But there’s something different about her, too. She looks like she’s been sleeping even worse than Faith has; there are dark circles smudged under her eyes and a vague but definite sense of sadness etched into her face.

Faith picks up the phone and holds it to her ear slowly. “Willow,” she says, her voice coming out a little bit raspy. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Faith,” Willow says, and her voice sounds tired. “There’s something going on. We need your help. Buffy - ” She pauses, and Faith is suddenly fully alert.

Something’s wrong, and Buffy is mixed up in it somehow, and that’s all Faith needs to know. She’s all in now, ready to do whatever it takes to help, because this is what she’s really been waiting on, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself. More than visits from Angel, more than the day her sentence finally ends, the one thing that Faith has truly been waiting for is the day when Buffy Summers needs her again.

She nods to Willow, and puts down the phone. “Step away from the glass.”

//

They drive back to Sunnydale in silence. Faith stares out the window as the trees and fields flash by and wonders why she doesn’t feel more triumphant. 

She’s out of prison, after all. She’s free again and heading back to Sunnydale and she’ll be seeing Buffy again soon, and that alone should be enough to make her happy even if she’s not sure how the reunion will go. She’s pretty sure Buffy won’t be rolling out the red carpet and welcoming her back, but just the prospect of seeing her for the first time in a year and a half is good enough for Faith.

And yet the feeling that something is wrong won’t leave Faith. She feels it all around her, clinging to her like a second skin.

Faith glances over at Willow, who’s gripping the wheel tightly and biting at her lip in a way that signals distress. 

“Willow,” Faith says. “What’s going on?”

Willow shakes her head. “I can’t...not right now, Faith. I’ll explain everything when we get back to the house, okay?”

“Fine,” Faith mutters. “Not like I just broke out of prison to help you or anything. You don’t owe me an immediate explanation at all.” 

Willow just keeps her eyes on the road and acts like she doesn’t hear. Faith leans her head against the cold glass of the window and settles down to wait.

//

The streets of Sunnydale are the same as they were three years ago, and Faith cherishes the familiarity of it all. She looks away as they drive past the row of motels where she once stayed, though; she has no desire to ever see those again.

She pushes away the thought that she’ll probably end up staying there again, now that she’s back in town. 

Willow turns onto Revello Drive and Faith feels her stomach turning inside out, because she’s really here. She’s on Buffy’s street and it’s not a dream. 

Buffy’s house looks the same as it always has, with its concrete walkway and wide front porch, shaded beneath tall pine trees. Faith takes a deep breath and feels a surge of guilt rising up inside her; the last time she was at this house, it was while she was wearing Buffy’s body.

History now, she reminds herself. She’s not that person anymore.

Willow parks in the driveway and slowly gets out of the car, and Faith follows her up the walk to the door. She waits impatiently, her feelings a mix of dread and excitement and something else that she can’t name, while Willow opens the door.

Faith steps inside and looks around, noticing the small changes. The coffee table is different, the sofa has been moved to a different place, and the windows look like they’ve been replaced, but it’s still the same house, and it’s so very  _ Buffy _ that Faith aches a little.

“I’m back,” Willow calls. An instant later, a girl about their age appears in the dining room, walking towards them. She looks vaguely familiar.

“Is this her?” the girl asks. “Hi. I’m Tara.”

Right,  _ Tara _ . Willow’s girl from college. Faith feels a fresh pang of guilt, remembering that Tara had detected Faith’s presence in Buffy’s body when no one else had. Something about her aura, Faith recalls - whatever that meant.

“Hey,” she says, raising a hand. Then she turns to Willow. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or…”

Tara’s expression changes. “She doesn’t know?” she says to Willow. “You didn’t tell her?”

Faith frowns, confused now. “Didn’t tell me what?”

Two people walk in from the kitchen - Xander and Dawn, both looking at Faith with more than a little suspicion. Faith scowls right back at them, because honestly. She hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Faith,” Xander says shortly. “I’d say I’m glad to have you back but, well.”

“Same to you, pal,” Faith replies. “Really appreciate the welcome wagon, here.”

Dawn takes a step closer to her, looking her up and down with narrowed eyes. For such a pipsqueak, she’s got some nerve. “We can’t afford a motel for you,” she says at last. “You’re staying in the basement. But believe me when I say that this was  _ not _ my idea.”

“Nice to see you too, small fry,” Faith says. “But hold on. Where’s Buffy?”

Dawn’s expression shifts from suspicious to angry. “What the hell do you mean, ‘where’s Buffy?’ What kind of messed up question - ” 

“Dawnie, no,” Willow says, cutting her off. “Faith doesn’t - I haven’t told her yet.”

Faith looks around at them slowly, studying them, noting the looks of exhausted sadness on each face. She feels a sinking feeling in her stomach that tells her this has something to do with her dreams, with her unshakable sense that something is wrong. “You haven’t told me  _ what _ ?”

Willow swallows hard before speaking again. “Buffy’s - Buffy’s dead.”

“No,” Faith says automatically, the denial coming from her mouth before she even has time to think about it. “She can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, Faith,” Tara says gently. “But it’s true.” Tara’s face is full of sorrow and her voice carries a note of pity that Faith knows is meant for her, and she feels like someone just slammed a sledgehammer into her chest. She shakes her head, backing away from Buffy’s friends like they’re carrying a contagious disease.

“No,” she says again, because she can’t believe that Buffy’s dead, can’t accept that. “No. She can’t be dead. She can’t be.”

Willow reaches out to her and Faith slaps her hand away. “Faith, wait - ” 

But Faith isn’t waiting. She’s out the door and gone before Willow can finish the sentence. 

//

Faith is ten blocks away from Buffy’s house before she stops running. She slows to a walk, her lungs burning, and lets her feet carry her along, uncaring of the destination. 

Buffy’s gone. 

Buffy’s  _ gone _ . 

Deep down, Faith knows that she should have expected this. The dream of Buffy falling through the sky didn’t repeat itself every night for nothing. It was a warning. A message.

But no dream in existence could have prepared Faith to live in a world where Buffy Summers is dead. It doesn’t seem possible to her. 

Faith continues walking, and eventually she realizes that she’s treading a familiar path to the Sunnydale cemetery. She lets herself in through the rusted metal gate, wandering through the rows of weathered tombstones, and finds herself drawn to a newer-looking stone near the back of the yard.

It’s a plain, unassuming grey stone that’s standing off to the side, under a tree. Faith doesn’t know why it seems special to her until she bends down to read the inscription. 

_ Buffy Anne Summers. 1981-2001. Beloved sister. Devoted friend. She saved the world a lot.  _

Faith sits down heavily in front of the gravestone, not caring that the grass around it is wet and muddy. She reaches out and runs her fingers along the surface of the stone, tracing the carving of the letters. 

_ She saved the world a lot. _

“Buffy,” Faith whispers out loud. “If you can hear me, please come back. Please.” She presses her hands to the ground, knowing that somewhere down there in the dirt there’s a coffin with the remains of Buffy’s body in it, wondering how someone as beautiful and full of life as Buffy Summers could ever be buried in the earth and left to rot.

She remembers the first time she met Buffy in the alley outside the Bronze, the look of shock on her face as she realized that Faith was the new Slayer in town. She remembers their patrols together, walking the streets of Sunnydale and knowing that they owned the night. 

She remembers fighting Buffy in the hall of Angel’s mansion, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before running away into the night. She remembers standing on a rooftop in LA in the rain, begging Buffy to tell her how to make it better. 

Faith pushes her hands into the muddy grass, thinking of all the words she wanted to say to Buffy but was never brave enough to, thinking of the chances they missed, thinking of what they could have been if they’d been brave enough to try. 

She sits in front of Buffy’s grave and lets her regret spill over and overwhelm her, and for the first time in a year and a half, Faith lets herself cry.

//

Faith eventually makes her way back to the house hours later, her clothes wet and covered in dirt and blades of grass. When she walks in the door, Willow and Tara are sitting on the couch. Their eyes go wide when they see the state that she’s in.

“It’s fine,” Faith says, before they start asking questions. She made sure to dry her eyes before coming back, but judging by the look on Tara’s face, it’s still apparent how messed up she is. “I’m going to shower.”

It’s only when Faith goes upstairs to the bathroom that she realizes she has no clothes to change into. She sits down on the edge of the tub and closes her eyes, willing herself not to fall apart.

There’s a quiet knock on the door and Faith opens it to see Tara standing there.

“Hey,” Tara says softly. “I realized you might not have a lot of extra clothes, since you were, you know, in prison. So I brought you some.” She hands Faith a bundle of clothes that smell clean and warm, like laundry detergent. 

“Thanks,” Faith says. “I’m just gonna - ” She nods to Tara, then closes the door again and sets the clean clothes on the counter before stripping off her dirty ones and stepping into the shower. 

The water is boiling hot, but Faith stays under the shower stream until her skin starts turning red. She almost relishes the burning sting of the water; the pain keeps her focused, and reminds her that she’s alive.

She’s alive, and Buffy’s gone.

Faith leans her head against the coolness of the tiled wall inside the shower, fighting back a scream. She’s alive and feeling everything, and Buffy is dead and feeling nothing, and Faith has no idea what to do now.

Back when she’d first moved to town, she’d resented Buffy’s authority. She’d thought that she could handle any situation just as well as Buffy, if not better. She’d wanted people to look to her for the answers the way they looked to Buffy. But now that Buffy’s gone, she knows the truth; she’s lost. 

She reminds herself that she’s still the Slayer, that whatever happens, she still has the power to kill vampires. Still has the power to rid the world of evil. 

She tries not to remind herself that two years ago, she was part of that evil.

The water starts to run cold. Faith turns the faucet sharply to the left, ending the stream of water, but stays standing in the shower stall for a long time, ignoring the chill of the air. 

When she finally dries off and gets dressed, she goes back downstairs. Dawn, Xander, Willow, and Tara are sitting at the dining room table, talking in low tones. Xander is sitting with his arm wrapped around a girl with curly, dirty blonde hair, and Dawn is sitting next to a man with bleached blonde hair that’s been styled in little waves. 

Those two new people look familiar to Faith, and she realizes that she’s seen them before, just not with her own eyes. The curly haired chick is Xander’s girl, Anya or something, and the bleach job’s name is Spike. He’s a vampire, Faith remembers with a jolt.

Faith clears her throat and the room goes silent. She slowly walks over to the table, sitting down in the empty chair at the head of it and trying not to think that she’s in Buffy’s seat.“So what am I here for, exactly?” she asks. “Did you bring me back just to break the news in style, or what?”

Willow and Xander look at each other cautiously, and Xander shakes his head. “You tell her. I still think it’s a bad idea, and you know that.”

“Okay,” Willow says. “Faith, we need you to stay here in Sunnydale. We need you to...we need you to be the Slayer.”

Faith knew that this was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Three years ago, she would have been thrilled to hear this sentence. Now, it just makes her feel numb. 

“I’m not your Slayer,” she says, forcing the words out. “I’m not…”  _ I’m not her. I can’t be her. _

“We know,” Dawn says, her voice steely. “Believe me, we know. But Sunnydale will be overrun by demons within days if we don’t have a Slayer in town.”

Faith smiles humorlessly. “So you pressed the speed dial for the murderer sitting in jail, and presto. Instant Slayer.” 

Willow starts to say something, and Faith cuts her off. “Don’t sweat it, Will. I know my job. I’ll get it done.” She looks around at the Scooby round table, and suddenly she notices that they’re missing someone. (Someone other than Buffy.) “Where’s Giles?”

“England,” Xander says. “He left before Buffy...he came back for the funeral, but then he left again. He’s based there permanently now.”

“Huh,” Faith muses. “Back to England. Like the Pilgrims, but in reverse.” 

The vampire - Spike - speaks up for the first time. “If you lot are done trying to replace Buffy, can I go then?”

“We’re not replacing her,” Xander snaps. “We could never replace Buffy, especially not with...We’re trying to do what’s best for the town. We’re trying to survive. Just because you’re - you were - in love with Buffy doesn’t mean that you get a free pass to screw over the whole of Sunnydale.”

Faith bites her lip so hard that she tastes blood. Spike is in love with Buffy. God, what is it with her and the vampires? 

Well, it doesn’t matter now, she supposes. Since Buffy is gone. 

“Okay,” she says out loud. “I’ll stay.”

Willow breathes an audible sigh of relief. Xander’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Dawn looks down at the tabletop, blinking hard, and Faith suspects that she’s fighting back tears. 

Well, she’s not the only one.

“Set up a bed in the basement or whatever,” she says, rising from the table. “I’m going out on patrol.”

“Wait,” Willow says. “Maybe we should bring you more up to speed on things - ” 

Faith makes a gesture like she’s popping a bubble. “No speed needed, Red. I know everything that’s important. You want me to be the Slayer, don’t know?”

Willow pauses for a moment, then nods, dropping her gaze to the table. “Yeah.”

“Well, then,” Faith says. “Don’t wait up.” She heads for the door before anyone else can try to hold her back.

//

Faith knows that the surest and easiest place to find vampires would be at the cemetery, but she just can’t bring herself to go back there, not yet. Not when barely three hours earlier she was sitting there by Buffy’s grave. So instead she heads downtown. 

She wanders through the back streets, looking for potential victims. There are usually at least a few vamps skulking around in the shadows, waiting for some poor schmuck to walk by.

The narrow streets are dirty and lined with piles of rotting wood, and there are dumpsters overflowing with trash around every corner. Faith thinks it’s fitting that she’s seeing the ugliest side of Sunnydale, because the only person who made this town beautiful is now six feet under. 

“Come on,” Faith mutters to herself, flipping a stake between her hands. She’s ready for a good fight, just waiting to unleash the rage and pain that’s churning around inside her. The problem is, there’s nothing around for her to fight. No vamps, no demons, not even a stray criminal. 

Faith weaves her way through the streets and eventually finds herself in the back alley at the Bronze. She inhales sharply as she realizes where she is. 

This is where she first met Buffy.

She slowly walks over to the fence by the trash cans, remembering the vampire that she was fighting when Buffy and her friends came running out. It’s almost as if she can see the whole scene playing out, like a ghostly memory. She can hear her own voice ringing in her ears. 

_ Hey. You’re uh, Buffy, right? _

Faith blinks sharply, and shakes her head to clear it. The alley is empty. She turns to go, kicking at a pile of beer cans spilling out of the mouth of a sideways trash can.

It’s late, almost midnight, and Faith figures it’s probably time to go back to the house. She wryly thinks that if this fruitless night is the kind of patrol she’s going to have often, then maybe she should just go back to prison. Sunnydale doesn’t seem to need a Slayer tonight. 

She’s halfway back to Revello Drive, cutting through the alley between a butcher’s shop and a video rental store, when she hears a high, piercing scream, and then the unmistakable snarling of a vampire. She grins to herself, and runs off in the direction of the screaming. 

“Help me,” the voice screams. “Please, someone hel- ” The rest of her sentence is cut off by a vampire’s growl. Faith reaches the corner of the brick building that houses the butcher’s shop and looks around the corner to see what she’s up against. 

A girl with long brown hair is pressed up against a blue dumpster, and four vampires are surrounding her. From the sound of it, they’re arguing over who gets to drink from her first.

“Hey,” Faith says, stepping out of the shadows and slapping her stake against her palm like a baton. “Why dontcha pick on someone who can fight back, huh?”

The vampires turn and catch sight of her, and then they snarl and rush her. Faith stands her ground and lets them come, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline running through her veins.

She hits the first vamp cleanly in the face, sending him flying back against the Dumpster. The second one tries to dive at her knees and tackle her, and he’s met with a swift kick to the face. Faith laughs out loud, because god, she’s missed this. After so long in prison, finally getting back to Slaying is like finding water in the desert. It’s satisfying her deepest, most basic urge. 

(Well. One of her deepest urges.)

“Man, come on,” Faith says, tossing a vamp over her shoulder like a bowling ball so that he knocks down one of his friends. “Is this all you’ve got? I gotta say, the lack of quality control among you guys is painful.”

“Are you nuts? They’ll kill you,” the brunette girl shrieks in a high, shaking voice. “They have like, fangs. I think they’re  _ vampires _ .” She’s still huddled against the dumpster, shivering and shaking, and Faith shakes her head in disgust. “Sack up, man. I got this one.”

She rolls to her right and stabs one of the vamps cleanly through the chest, smirking as he dissolves into dust. Another one of them growls in rage and smacks her in the face, and Faith almost enjoys the pain. 

“That the best you’ve got?” she asks, flipping her hair around so that it’s out of her face and staking him. “I know I’m the Slayer and all, but damn. You guys are making me look so good right now.”

One of the remaining two vamps bares his fangs at her. “You’re not the Slayer. The Slayer is dead.”

Faith freezes. “Shut up.”

“She is,” the vamp continues, confident now. “We know that she died. You’re just a shitty replacement.” 

Faith’s vision goes almost red. She tosses away the stake in her hands and runs at the vamp, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him into the wall of the building so hard that the bricks start to crumble. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her again, you hear me?” she spits out. “You’re not even good enough to  _ think _ about her.” She starts hitting him, punctuating every word with a punch. “Don’t - talk - about - her - or - I’ll - kill - you.” 

“Okay, okay,” the vampire babbles out, all bravado gone now. “I won’t, I won’t do it again. I won’t!”

“Good,” Faith says. “But I’m still going to kill you.” She picks a shattered two-by-four out of the dumpster and uses it to run him through, brushing the dust off her clothes as he disintegrates. Then she turns to the last vamp. He’s shaking even more than the girl he was trying to drink from.

Faith points at him, relishing the way he cringes. “Listen, pal. There’s still a Slayer in town, and I’m not the good sheriff here. I won’t be letting you take over. I see you, you’re dust, and that goes for every vamp and demon in this town. Understand?”

The vampire nods frantically, then turns and runs away before Faith can change her mind. Faith sighs and lets her eyes close, just for a moment, before walking over to the girl she just rescued. 

“Hey,” Faith says. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“N- no,” the girl stammers. “I’m okay.”

“Then go on home,” Faith says. “Before any other bloodthirsty nasties decide that you’d be a nice snack.”

“Is it safe now?” the girl asks hopefully. 

Faith holds back a laugh. If this chick thinks killing a couple vamps makes it safe to walk around Sunnydale alone after dark, she must be new to town or something. Still, telling her that won’t help matters, so Faith decides to shelter her a little. 

“Yeah, it’s safe,” she lies. “You’ll be alright to get home, yeah?”

“I guess so,” the girl says. She starts walking out of the alley, nervously turning her head to look this way and that like she’s about to cross a busy street. Faith watches her leave, suddenly feeling exhausted. If Buffy were here, she’d probably be walking the girl home, but that’s not Faith’s brand. She’s not the good Slayer.

_ If Buffy were here...well, that’s the whole goddamn problem, isn’t it? _

Faith sighs to herself and runs to catch up with the girl. “Tell me where you live, okay? I’ll walk you home.”

The girl looks at her with wide eyes, her expression grateful, and Faith’s exasperation lessens. She still doesn’t feel like the good Slayer, but maybe this is a start.

//

Faith closes the door of the house carefully, not wanting to make too much noise. Despite it being past midnight, there’s someone still awake, because she can hear faint sounds coming from the TV. She peers into the living room to see Dawn slouched on the sofa, watching a movie, a blanket wrapped around her. 

Dawn stretches and catches sight of Faith standing by the door. “Xander set up a mattress in the basement for you,” she says. “Willow left some sheets and blankets down there.”

“Thanks,” Faith says.

Dawn looks away. “Whatever.”

Faith hesitates for a moment, watching Dawn. She’s reminded of herself as a kid, sitting on the couch watching nighttime movies and pretending that she didn’t hear the sounds of shouting and breaking bottles from the kitchen.

Dawn is all alone without Buffy, the Scooby gang notwithstanding, and Faith knows all too well what it’s like to live without a family. She wants to talk to Dawn, to help her somehow, but she has no idea how.

“Did you want something else?” Dawn asks, without looking at her. “I can tell you’re still standing there.”   
  


Faith blinks twice, quickly. “Nah,” she says. “I’m five by five.” She heads for the basement before she talks herself into trying to sit down with Dawn. 

The basement is dark and Faith fumbles around for a moment trying to find a light switch, but when she gets a good look at her surroundings, she doesn’t mind at all. There’s a lot of space and it’s decently clean, and there are narrow windows at the top of the walls that let in some light from the outside. There’s even a punching bag hanging from the middle of the room.

Faith sits down on the edge of the bed and slowly starts fitting the sheets onto the mattress. An image flashes into her mind quickly - a memory, almost more like a dream. Standing in a sunlit room with Buffy, helping her to make a bed. 

_ She’s gone, _ Faith reminds herself.  _ She’s gone and there’s nothing you can do about it. _

Faith suddenly feels weary down to her very bones, every muscle in her body aching with tiredness. She kicks off her shoes and gets in bed, and falls asleep without bothering to tuck the sheets in.

//

When she makes her way upstairs to the kitchen the next morning, she’s surprised to find Willow and Tara sitting at the counter, eating breakfast. Tara catches her questioning glance. 

“Oh,” she says. “We moved in after...you know. Someone needed to be with Dawn.”

“Right,” Faith says, opening the refrigerator just for an excuse to turn her face away. She clutches the door handle hard, needing something to hold onto, because every time someone reminds her that Buffy’s gone, it’s like there’s a razor sharp blade sinking into her stomach. (And she knows exactly what that feels like, because Buffy…)

Dawn comes into the kitchen then, carrying a backpack, and stops short at the sight of Faith. “I’m ready to go to school,” she says, pointedly aiming her words at Willow and Tara only.

“I’ll give you a ride there,” Willow says. “You should probably grab some breakfast first.”

“Yeah, well,” Dawn scoffs. “Looks like Faith is using the fridge, so.”

Faith realizes that she’s still standing in front of the open refrigerator, curls of cold air lazily making their way into the room now, and closes the door. “All yours, pipsqueak. I’m going out anyway.”

She leaves by the back door, letting it fall shut just as Willow starts to say, “I packed you a lunch, Dawnie.”

The streets are mostly empty, but the sun is up and there’s a cool morning breeze, and Faith starts walking without any real plan. She still has no idea what she’s supposed to do now. Every one of her instincts, every logical circuit in her brain, insists that she can’t be Sunnydale’s Slayer. That job was meant for one person and one person only, and Faith sure as hell isn’t the one.

She remembers when she first got to Sunnydale, how she made friends with Buffy’s friends and charmed Buffy’s mother and joined in on patrols until Buffy accused her of stealing her life, and has to fight back a choking laugh at the irony, because here she is now, stealing her life all over again, only this time she doesn’t want it at all. 

Faith closes her eyes and sends up a silent message of apology to Buffy, hoping that she can hear it wherever she is. 

_ I know I’m taking everything from you,  _ she thinks,  _ but I’ll give it all back if you just  _ come _ back.  _

She paces the streets, walks until her feet start hurting. There’s no real reason for her to be out right now - no vamps will be around in daylight, and not many self-respecting demons carry out evil deeds during the day - but she can’t stand to stay in Buffy’s house. It’s too wrecked with memories.

Although, Faith reflects bitterly, so is every other street in Sunnydale.

Eventually she ends up at the docks. She sits down on the cold concrete pier and stares up at the rusting hulk of a cargo ship tied to a mooring, thinking of the last time she was here, three years ago.

She was hiding here after she had started working for the Mayor, and Buffy had tracked her down and tried to bring her back. Faith clenches her fists, remembering how arrogant she’d been, how stupid. She should have listened to Buffy. She wants to go back and relive every moment that seventeen-year-old Faith had with Buffy so that she can do everything again, do it right. 

_ I saved Buffy’s life here,  _ Faith remembers.  _ At least I did one thing right. _

She looks up at the sun, suddenly hating the heartless perfection of this day, and starts speaking out loud, hoping against hope that some power of the universe can hear her.

“You took the wrong person,” Faith says slowly, hating what she’s saying but knowing it to be true. “You took the wrong Slayer. It should have been me.” 

Her voice cracks, and suddenly she’s screaming at the sky. “You took the wrong one, do you hear me?  _ You took the wrong one! _ ”

But the sky doesn’t listen to her, and the universe doesn’t hear her, and Faith’s throat starts burning, so she stands up and walks away. She doesn’t look back.

//

Faith is sitting at the dining room table, staring into space, when Willow and Tara come back from school. 

Back from college, Faith recalls with a start. Here they were, going off to college, and Faith never even graduated from high school. She still doesn’t regret dropping out, but she feels a familiar twinge of embarrassment, knowing that she’s behind them by years of education.

“Hey,” Willow says, setting her bag down at the other end of the table. “There’s a demon running around downtown, and…”

“And you need me to kill it?” Faith asks. “Got it. Do we know anything?”

“No, but it looks familiar. We’re going to the Magic Box to research it first.”

Faith frowns, not sure what Willow’s talking about. “What magic box? Are you into some kinda magician shit besides the witch deal now?”

“I mean the magic shop,” Willow explains. “You know, the one Giles bought. Anya - that’s Xander’s girlfriend - she runs it now. Actually, I guess she’s Xander’s fiancée. I keep forgetting that.”

Faith isn’t sure she’s hearing correctly. “Giles bought a magic shop? Xander is engaged?”

“Yes,” Willow says impatiently. “Get your weapons. We’re going.” She scoops up her car keys and grabs her bag.

Faith goes over to the weapons chest, rummaging around for some stakes and knives. She feels a brief pain in her chest as she picks up a battle axe, knowing that it is - was - one of Buffy’s favorite weapons. She holds it gently for a moment, staring at the keen edge. If she squints hard enough, she can almost imagine that Buffy’s reflected in the spotless metal, looking over her shoulder. 

“Faith?” Tara calls from the door, and Faith quickly drops the axe back into the chest. 

“Coming,” she yells back, stuffing three knives into the inside of her jacket.

//

Faith isn’t sure what she expected from a shop owned by Giles, but the Magic Box is pretty much a perfect setup for a stuffy British librarian who does magic on the side. As Faith walks in the door, her nose is filled with the smell of dusty herbs and old paper. The wooden shelves are lined with crystals and plants and all sorts of trinkets that are undoubtedly magical, and up in a loft above the main floor, there’s a large collection of ancient-looking books.

It almost reminds her of the Sunnydale High library, and she has to stop herself from looking around to see Buffy. 

“Okay,” Willow says, heading for a round table piled high with books. “Xander said this demon has three horns and a red tail.” She starts flipping through books, and Tara sits down to help. Faith hops up onto the counter and sits with her legs dangling over the edge, trying not to sneeze from the strong smell of the shop.

“You said Xander’s girlfriend runs this place now?” she asks. “Has she ever heard of air freshener?”   


She meant it as a joke, but Willow lowers the book in her hands and looks at her thoughtfully. “Well, she spent the last thousand years of her life working as a Vengeance demon, so probably not. The Vengeance crowd isn’t super big on technological advances. Or anything that isn’t vengeance.”

Faith raises an eyebrow at that, because Xander’s dating a  _ demon? _ She wonders what the hell else has been happening while she was in prison. 

“Ooh, here,” Willow says, pointing to the open page in front of her. “Found our guy. He’s called a Hijdloth demon. Three horns, red tail, and...oh, that’s disgusting.” She trails off, looking queasy. Faith doesn’t bother asking for details.

“Any tips on how to kill it?” she asks. She doesn’t have all day here, and the knives in her jacket are just begging to be used on some hellspawn who doesn’t know their place in this town.

Willow scans the page. “‘Soft spots include the eyes and the stomach.’” 

“So in other words, nothing I didn’t already know. Great.” Faith slides off the counter, her boots landing on the floor with a loud thump. “Well, you two sit tight and pound the books. I’m off to kill this thing.”

Willow doesn’t look too thrilled about this, and Faith sees her shoot a nervous glance at Tara. “But, but there might be more that we need to know about this demon before you go off with the Slaying.”

“Aw, don’t worry your little head about me, Red,” Faith says with a lopsided smile. “I’ll be just fine.” She nods to them and walks out of the shop. Talking’s great and all, but actions are louder than words, or something like that, and this demon’s not going to kill himself. 

//

It takes Faith an hour to track down the demon, but she finally finds him down at the town dump. She tracks him through the piles of trash for a few minutes just in case he’s going somewhere in particular, because that’s probably the responsible thing to do. 

“God, this sucks,” Faith mutters to herself, carrying a knife in one hand and using the free one to hold her nose shut. “Being responsible absolutely blows.”

The demon turns around as if he heard her speaking, and lowers his horns at her. Faith grins. “Yeah, this is more like it. Come get a plate of smackdown, asshole.” She pulls a second knife out and launches herself into battle.

The demon is quick, but Faith is quicker, and she’s not pulling punches today; the smell of the garbage is getting to her, and she doesn’t want to stand around in this dump all day. The fight is over within minutes, her knives slashing off the demon’s head, and she watches as it dissolves into a sticky black liquid.

Faith examines the goo-covered blades of her knives sadly. “Fucking nasty, man.” 

Well, there’s nothing she can do for it now. She makes her way out of the dump as quickly as she can, heading back to the Summers house.

“Is it dead?” Willow asks, as soon as she walks in.

“It’s dead,” Faith confirms. “Ruined my knives, though. Was that the only demon on the agenda for today?” 

Willow nods.

“Well in that case, I think I’m gonna hit the showers real quick. Let me know if any other Slayer-type problems come up.”

Faith’s halfway up the stairs when she hears Willow’s voice again. She backs up and sticks her head into the dining room. “What’d you say?”

Willow looks at her, waving awkwardly. “Uh, nothing. Just...good job today.” 

“Oh,” Faith says, surprised. “Um. Thanks.” Not knowing what else to say, she walks upstairs quickly. 

Once she’s in the bathroom, she sets her dirty knives next to the sink and sits down on the edge of the tub. It’s been one day and she’s already tired beyond belief, not from fighting the demon, but from the knowledge that she’ll have to fight hundreds and maybe thousands more like it, again and again, day in and day out, and she’ll have to do it alone. 

Slaying without Buffy wouldn’t have bothered Faith three years ago. Back then she would have been glad to hunt by herself, proud that she could get the job done by herself without needing to rely on Sunnydale’s golden girl Chosen One. But now that she knows what it’s like to be the Slayer in a world without Buffy, she hates it more than anything.

And she remembers being seventeen in a shitty motel room and talking to Buffy about who she could trust. 

“I’m on my side,” Faith had said. “That’s enough.” 

Buffy had just looked at her sadly. “Not always.” 

Faith had brushed it off back then, filled with the arrogant confidence that she was the only person she needed in any fight. It’s only now that she realizes Buffy was right all along. It’s not always enough. 

It’s not enough now.

//

It’s not prison, but life in the Summers household starts to fall into a similar pattern for Faith. 

She wakes up in a dark space, on a small bed, and eats a simple breakfast. She spends most of her time out on the streets of Sunnydale, looking for demons to hunt or just walking around for lack of something better to do. She learns the ins and outs of living with Willow and Tara and Dawn, the steps of the awkward dance that they do to avoid each other as much as possible. 

She patrols alone every night, and she cleans up every vamp or demon or three-headed weredog that she comes across with a quick, lethal efficiency. She trains herself to stop looking over her shoulder, to stop fighting as if someone else has her back. 

For the most part, she’s adjusting to her new life. She still can’t ever be all that Buffy was, but being the Slayer is something she can handle. It’s what she’s made for, after all, so she may as well take advantage of it.

She gets herself some new clothes. She finds a convenience store with dirt cheap prices near the edge of town and buys a carton of cigarettes. They don’t taste as good when they weren’t bargained for with soap or extra bread, but nicotine is nicotine.

She hooks up with three girls in three nights and only stops because she’s surprised at just how meaningless it feels.

She may not be much happier in Sunnydale than she was in prison, but at least she’s freer. And as the weeks start to crawl by, she thinks that maybe this is it. Maybe this really is her life now, and maybe she can be okay with it.

(Maybe she can even be okay without…)

She wakes up from nightmares about Buffy twice, finds herself twisted up in her blankets and sweating like she’s just run a hundred miles in the heat, and knows that she can adjust to her new life, but deep down, she’ll never be truly okay without Buffy. 

As she’s done so many times with hard-to-face truths, Faith wraps this knowledge up and shoves it to the bottom of her brain. She won’t think about it. She  _ can’t _ think about it.

“You’re the Slayer,” she tells herself. “The Chosen One.” She steadies herself, settles into herself like an anchor sinking to the bottom of the sea, and tries not to remember a time when they were the Chosen Two.

This is her life now, and Buffy isn’t here to live it with her.

//

Faith thinks that Buffy’s friends are plotting something.

She doesn’t have any hard evidence, but it’s clear to see that something is going on. Xander and Anya are at the house more than ever lately, and the demon girl always stops talking the second Faith walks into the room. Even Willow, Dawn and Tara, who are polite to Faith by now - she wouldn’t say  _ friendly,  _ especially not in Dawn’s case, but they’re fairly civil - are acting shifty. 

She isn’t going to be the one to ask what’s going on. After all, being excluded from the precious little Scooby gang is old news for her. But she does want to talk it over with someone, and so she heads to the graveyard. Maybe there’ll be a newly risen vamp there who can give her a couple minutes of decent conversation before she stakes him.

That’s how she ends up near a tall crypt, beating the shit out of an annoying vamp while an even more annoying one watches the fight.

“You think they’re plotting something,” Spike says, his voice a bit condescending. He lights a cigarette and sticks it in the corner of his mouth, exhaling the smoke into the night sky. The smell of nicotine wraps around Faith, and her hand twitches, wanting a hit, but she won’t stoop as low as bumming a smoke from a vampire.

“I’m tellin’ you, something’s up,” Faith replies, picking up the scrawny newbie of a vamp and throwing him against a tombstone. There’s a cracking noise, and she hopes it doesn’t mean that she just damaged the stonework. “They keep whispering to each other and they stop talking as soon as I’m not around.”

Spike leans back against the crypt wall, his expression annoyingly smug. “Sure they just don’t want you around? They’re a funny lot, the Scoobies. Not much for the company of big bads like you and me.”

Faith smacks the vamp in the face and kicks him over as he reels backwards in pain. “Please. I’m nothing like you.”

Spike raises an eyebrow. “In prison for jaywalking then, were you?”

Faith clenches a fist. He has a point, but she’s not going to admit it. “I’ve changed,” she says. “I’m not like that anymore. I’m not - ” 

“Not a murderer?” Spike guesses. “Not so sure about that one, love. Kind of tends to be a permanent label.”

“Well, mine’s not,” Faith snaps. “So shut your face.” 

The vamp that she’s beating on raises his hand like they’re in class and Faith is the teacher. “Excuse me, but can I go? You seem to be busy having a conversation, and I don’t want to get in the way.”

“No, you can’t,” Faith says, and stakes him through the heart. She turns on Spike, pointing the stake at him, resisting the urge to stab him too.  _ He’s in love with Buffy.  _ That’s what Xander had said. God, Faith wants to turn him to dust and blow him away like a dandelion, but she holds back, because even if he is a murderous piece of scum, he might be the closest thing she has to an ally in this town.

Spike raises his hands slowly. “You can put down the stake, you know. Not going to do you any harm. Can’t, not with this bloody thing in my head.” He taps his forehead. 

Faith nods, remembering what Willow had told her about some kind of government organization putting an electric chip inside Spike’s brain to keep him housebroken. “Well, if you can’t even give me a proper fight, you can make yourself useful another way. Find out if the Scoobies are up to something, and let me know.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Faith pretends to think about it. “Well, I’ll let ya live. That’s the deal.”

“Thought it might be something like that,” Spike mutters. “And what makes you think I could find anything?”

“You’re a demon,” Faith says dismissively. “Use your underground demon connections.” She waves a hand at him and starts to walk out of the graveyard.

“Faith,” Spike says, and Faith looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Spike tosses his cigarette to the ground. “You’re not her,” he says. “And you’ll never be her. You know that, right?”

Faith looks at him, this smarmy, bleached-out monster leaning against the side of a crypt, and she wants to hate him, but she can’t quite manage it, because she knows exactly why he misses Buffy so much and she feels the same way. So she holds in her biting replies, holds back the punches she’s longing to throw, and just breathes.

“I know,” she says, and then she walks away, leaving Spike alone in the graveyard. 

As she’s walking along the street, past a row of darkened houses, Faith suddenly hears a growling noise. She stops short, turning slowly from side to side, trying to locate the source of the noise, but she doesn’t see anything.

She sticks her hands into her jacket pockets, curling them into fists. “Come on out,” she calls. “I’ve got room on the schedule for one more demon ass-kicking tonight.” 

There’s a rustle of movement behind her and Faith whips around, hands out of her pockets now, ready to fight. A shadow looms out of the darkness and rushes at her, knocking her backwards onto the pavement. She gets a brief glimpse of glowing red eyes before the thing is gone, disappearing into the night.

Faith picks herself up and walks back to the house, confused and slightly irritated that whatever just attacked her didn’t stick around. She could have used a good fight to vent her anger after that conversation with Spike. Whatever. She’ll find it later.

She walks back to the house, taking the long way, and she’s almost to Revello Drive when she realizes that she’s been walking on the far edge of the sidewalk, like she’s leaving room for someone to walk next to her. 

When she gets home, she sits on the steps of the porch to smoke a cigarette alone.

//

“And you’re sure it had red eyes?” Willow asks, for the tenth time that morning. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Faith says irritably. She’d been all for it when Willow had originally suggested that they meet up with the rest of the gang at the magic shop to look for clues about the thing she ran into last night, but that was before Willow asked her the same question over and over without giving her any useful information. 

Xander slouches back in his chair. “Red eyes, huh. Creepy with a capital C.”

“You know what else has red eyes?” Anya asks. “Bunnies. Evil, evil bunnies.”

Faith looks at her with mild interest. This isn’t the first time the chick has mentioned bunnies like they’re some kind of demonic killing machines instead of fluffy little animals. “Yo, what’s your issue with bunnies?”   


Anya doesn’t answer, just shudders and wraps her arms around herself. Faith shrugs and goes back to trying to balance her chair on only the back two legs. 

Dawn looks up from her book. “I think I got something,” she says. “Look.” She tips the book towards Faith, and Faith tilts her head to see a drawing of a shadowy figure in a black cape. The eyes are colored in red. “Is that what you saw?”

“Might be,” Faith mutters. “Can’t tell.” 

Dawn runs her finger along the text. “This says it only comes out during the night. You’ll have to wait to track it down.”

“Should be easy,” Faith comments. “Didn’t put up much of a fight last night, anyway.”

Willow gives Dawn a look that Faith can’t decipher. “So you’ll be able to put it down tonight?”

“Yeah. What’s the big deal with this thing anyway?” Faith isn’t trying to turn down a fight, but this demon - or whatever it is - is basically a floating black cloak with laser pointers for eyes. She’s not exactly seeing the rush to kill it.

“Oh, well,” Willow says, seemingly flustered. “It gets stronger with every passing night that the moon becomes fuller. That’s probably why it ran off last night. So killing it now will save us a lot of trouble in the future.”

Faith nods. “Got it. I’ll get rid of it tonight, then.”

Willow leans over to help Dawn sort through the rest of the information on the page, and Faith tips her chair back again. As she looks around the table, she realizes that she’s in the middle of one of the famous Scooby meetings. Not only that, but she’s acting as their leader.

It’s a bittersweet realization. Being part of Buffy’s inner circle had been all she wanted three years ago. Now here she is, as close to the heart of the action as it’s possible to be, and it’s all a hollow victory now that Buffy’s gone. 

Faith winces as her chest lets out a sharp twinge of pain, and god, is she ever going to get used to saying that Buffy’s gone? It doesn’t seem to get any easier. She slips her hand under her shirt, subconsciously feeling for the familiar scar on her stomach. It’s gotten to be a habit of hers, reaching for tactile proof that Buffy had really been here.

She gets up from the table, suddenly not wanting to be sitting still. “I’ll be in the training room if you need me.”

Willow looks up as she leaves, and then back down at her book quickly. 

//

Faith goes out that night with two knives and a stake, canvassing the streets of the neighborhood for the shadow demon. She sticks close to the house because that’s where she saw the thing last, and she’s pretty sure it wouldn’t have gone very far.

Up ahead, the bushes next to the sidewalk start shaking, and Faith grins to herself. “Jackpot.” 

She stealthily walks up to the bushes and pulls them back to see the shadow demon crouching over something on the ground. It looks up at her and hisses, standing up to its full height, and Faith looks at what it was eating. Some kind of small animal, bloody and torn, lies by the demon’s feet.

“Gross, man,” Faith says. “That better have been a rat or something.”

The demon hisses again and lunges at her, sending her backwards. Faith rolls away from it and flips herself back onto her feet, pulling out her knives. “What are you supposed to be, anyway? A black blanket?”

A claw reaches out from under the cape - or maybe skin - and slashes across her face, drawing blood. Faith reels back, trying to ignore the stinging pain. She throws a knife at the demon, sinking it into one of the blood red eyes, and is rewarded with a high pitched scream of pain. Faith takes advantage of the demon’s discomfort to kick it in the chest, sending it flopping onto the pavement. She buries her other knife in the creature’s throat and it lets out a gurgle, then goes still. 

Faith bends down, poking at the limp body cautiously, and confirms that the thing is dead. “Not much of a fight,” she mutters. “Guess I better tell Willow that it’s done.” She retrieves her knives and turns down the street. 

When she gets back to the house, only Dawn is there, sitting at the dining room table with a notebook in front of her. Faith frowns, suspicious suddenly; Dawn is usually never left alone for any reason.

“Hey, pipsqueak,” Faith says, keeping her voice casual. “Where is everyone?”

Dawn just shrugs and keeps scribbling away at her paper. Faith is about to go downstairs to the basement when she feels a sudden twisting, pulling sensation in her gut, an intense ache, followed by the chilling sensation that something cold is dripping down her neck. 

“Shit,” she whispers, pushing a hand to her stomach. Her legs are trembling from the effort of standing still, and she suddenly feels an undeniable force pulling her out the door, away from the house.

“Faith?” Dawn asks, looking up from her work. “Faith?”

But Faith is already gone.

//

The streets flash by as Faith runs through the night, driven blindly by something she doesn’t understand. Her vision clouds over suddenly and she trips, throwing out her hands to steady herself and feeling them push through solid earth instead of the air.

A feeling of panic wells up inside her and she forms a fist, smashes her hand through the air. The cloying sensation of earth disappears. She draws in a ragged breath and keeps running.

The cemetery is dark but there’s lights flickering in one corner, and Faith instantly knows that’s where she needs to be. She stumbles through the crooked rows of tombstones, forcing her way towards the light. Images flash across her eyes like a supercut of film.

A circle of candles. A group of people. A vase on the ground. 

A tombstone. Carved letters.

_ Buffy Anne Summers.  _

Faith’s vision is flickering, but she recognizes the girl sitting on the ground in front of the candles.  _ Willow _ . Blood on her face, charcoal black marks on her arms. 

There’s a slithering movement in the grass at her feet, and Faith looks down to see a snake sliding away. Then the earth is surrounding her again, pressing her in, and she’s fighting for air. 

“Stop,” she yells. “Stop!”

Willow’s on her feet now, staggering back, and there’s a cold wind blowing through the trees. “Did it work?” she yells. 

“What did you do?” Faith demands. “What did you do? Tell me!”

Willow holds her hands up, protecting herself from the blows that she’s expecting from Faith. “I didn’t...I don’t think...something went wrong…”

Faith’s vision blurs again, and she falls to her knees, clawing at the ground in front of her. 

“What’s happening to her?” Xander yells over the sound of the wind.

“I don’t know,” Willow shouts back. “It must not have worked.” 

Faith is still yanking at the grass, ripping out clumps of it now, reaching down into the dirt and feeling around frantically. “Don’t just sit there,” she snaps. “Help me.” She’s struggling to breathe now, and she doesn’t know why, but she knows how to fix it. She has to keep going.

Tara looks at her, eyes wide with fright. “What are you looking for?”   


Faith doesn’t bother answering, just keeps digging. Her hands brush against the smoothness of polished wood, and she grabs the edge of the coffin lid and and yanks just as her lungs feel like they’re about to collapse in on themselves.

“There,” she says, and falls back onto the newly made pile of dirt.

They sit around the hole, four of them looking apprehensive and one looking exhausted, all of them waiting. And then it happens. 

A hand reaches up from the grave and braces against the ground. An arm follows it, and then Buffy Summers is pulling herself up out of the earth, coughing and choking and collapsing onto the grass.

It's horribly ironic because Buffy is fighting for air, but Faith feels like she can finally breathe properly for the first time since she came back to Sunnydale. 

Willow’s staring, her hand covering her mouth. “Buffy,” she says. “Oh my god. It worked.” She throws herself at Buffy, trying to hug her, and Buffy sits still and silent as Xander and Anya and Tara surround her, asking questions, touching her.

Faith can’t stand it.

“Give her space,” she says, roughly pushing them all away from Buffy. Anya looks offended and Xander looks angry, but Faith is beyond caring what they think of her. Her only focus is on Buffy.

Faith gently rests a hand on Buffy’s shoulder and Buffy slowly turns to look at her, a tiny spark of life dancing in her eyes in recognition of Faith’s touch.

“Buffy,” Faith says softly, her voice so quiet that it sounds like a whisper. Like a prayer. “Can you hear me?”

Buffy nods and Faith blinks rapidly, holding back tears of relief. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” She helps Buffy to her feet as carefully as possible and they start to make their way out of the graveyard. Faith wraps an arm around Buffy to guide her and there they are, the Chosen Two, the ones who will stand against the vampires and demons and the forces of darkness, covered in dirt and leaning on each other for support as they stumble out of a graveyard that couldn’t contain one of them beneath its soil.

//

When they finally make it back to Buffy’s house, Spike is waiting on the lawn outside, in the shadow of a tree. He’s smoking a cigarette, but he tosses it to the grass when he sees them coming. Faith motions for him to stay out of sight for now and lets Tara steer Buffy up the steps, into the house.

The second that the door closes behind them, Spike explodes.

“What have you bleeding idiots done?” he spits out, his face lined with rage. “What did you do?”

“What we had to do,” Willow responds. Her voice is shaky but her resolve is strong, and Faith would almost admire it if the girl wasn’t so monumentally stupid. 

Spike’s jaw clenches. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You’re playing god and it’ll come around to get you in the end. That’s the thing with magic like this. There’s always a price.”

Willow just looks at him without a word, then goes into the house. Xander and Anya follow, and then it’s just Spike and Faith alone in the yard.

“How could you let them do this?” Spike asks. 

Faith feels the anger rush to her head so quickly it makes her dizzy. “How could  _ you  _ let them do this? You were supposed to find out what was going on in time to stop it.”

“Yeah, well, I was too late,” Spike says, looking away now. 

“Obviously,” Faith says. She reaches over and steps on the still-smoldering end of Spike’s cigarette, making sure the orange embers are snuffed out, and then goes inside the house without another glance at him.

Inside, Dawn is hugging Buffy in a grip that looks almost painful. Buffy isn’t hugging back exactly, but she’s patting clumsily at Dawn’s hair. The others are clustered around them, their expressions a mix of relief and awe. 

Faith’s first instinct is to move them away from Buffy, give her space to breathe. The urge is so strong that it burns against her skin but she can’t act on it, because she’s not in charge here anymore. Buffy is back, and Faith is back to being just a side character, a minor attraction. Her power here is gone. 

She takes one more look at Buffy, etching the image of her embracing Dawn into her mind to remind herself that she’s here and she’s safe, and then goes down to the basement. 

Sleep is out of the question, so Faith strips out of her outer layer of clothing and beats the punching bag until her hands start to sting, and then paces the room until she finally gets too tired to continue. She sits down on her bed, legs hanging off the side, head resting in her hands.

Buffy is back.

Faith feels a prickle of guilt, mixed with an irrational sadness. Somewhere deep inside, on a fundamental level, she knows that Buffy wasn’t meant to come back. But just as certainly, she knows that seeing Buffy alive tonight was the happiest moment of her life.

The jumbled emotions in Faith’s mind have woven themselves into an impossible knot, and she’s far too tired to untangle it. For tonight, it’s enough to know that Buffy’s alive. 

She’s alive, and Faith is alive too, and that’s the only thing that matters to Faith right now. 

//

Faith wakes up with a crick in her neck and aching arms, and sees that there’s sunlight streaming in through the windows. She throws the covers back and races up the basement steps, cursing herself for oversleeping. 

Buffy’s sitting in the kitchen, facing the sink, and Faith’s knees go weak with relief. It wasn’t a dream. Buffy’s really here. She lingers in the doorway for a moment, just watching Buffy stir at a bowl of cereal but not eat it, because it’s so reassuring to see that she’s alive.

“Are you going to come in or stand there some more?”

Faith and Buffy both jump at the sudden noise, and it’s only then that Faith notices Dawn is in the kitchen too, standing by the stove. Faith nods to her and sits down at the counter, carefully keeping a chair between herself and Buffy. 

She tries not to stare but it’s so damn hard. Buffy looks tired and drawn, her face thinner and paler than Faith remembers, but she’s alive and she’s beautiful. 

Buffy looks over at her and Faith jerks her gaze away, ashamed.

“Buffy?” Dawn asks, her voice sounding a little worried. “Do you want anything for breakfast? I can make you anything, eggs or bacon or toast, or pancakes, Willow taught me how to make pancakes...and there’s orange juice in the fridge, no pulp, like you like…”

The words  _ back off  _ are on the tip of Faith’s tongue but she holds them back and watches as Buffy pulls herself together and says quietly, “No, I’m not hungry.” 

Dawn’s face falls, and Buffy makes an effort to smile. “Thanks anyway, Dawn.” 

Faith’s caught between walking out of the kitchen and staying by Buffy’s side until she’s forced to leave. It hurts to see her this way, but Faith never wants to let Buffy out of her sight again. 

Buffy still hasn’t said a single word to her. 

“I’m going to get Willow and Tara,” Dawn says. She runs out of the room and then it’s just Buffy and Faith. 

“So,” Faith says, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the kitchen. “You’re alive now.”

It’s probably one of the dumbest things she could have said and she’s mentally kicking herself for it, but at least it gets her a response. 

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “Here I am. Among the living again.” She lets out a quiet laugh, the kind with absolutely no humor in it, and Faith aches to reach out to her, but she doesn’t dare to. She looks at Buffy again and Buffy looks at her, truly making eye contact for the first time since Buffy came back, and Faith is shocked at the pain that she sees in Buffy’s eyes. 

She looks worse than tired; she looks haunted. Looking at Buffy, Faith feels like she’s seeing herself in the mirror after she woke up from her coma. 

A horrible suspicion starts to form in the back of Faith’s mind, welling up inside of her, but she forces it down for now.

Willow and Tara come into the kitchen, Willow bursting with excitement and Tara showing her happiness with a quiet but bright smile, and Buffy turns to talk to them. Faith watches silently, drinking in Buffy’s presence. 

//

It turns out that Spike was right. The magic that brought Buffy back did have a price, in the form of a giant, spiky demon. 

“He turned up at the Magic Box,” Anya says, her face crumpled in a frown of annoyance, and Faith gets the impression that the girl is more annoyed about the invasion of her precious shop than the fact that there’s a demon running around loose. 

Willow nods. “That’s the catch to the resurrection spell, I guess. Once the demon is dead, we should be good.”

Faith instinctively reaches for a weapon before remembering that it’s not all her responsibility anymore. She glances over at Buffy, sitting on the arm of the couch and staring at the coffee table. 

“B?” she says. “Do you want me to handle this one?” 

Buffy blinks and shakes her head, like she’s only been partly paying attention to the conversation. “No,” she replies. “I’ll come.”

Faith isn’t so sure that it’s a good idea for Buffy to go back to slaying the day after she’s been resurrected from beyond the grave, but she’s not really one to preach about what’s too dangerous. Plus, arguing won’t get them anywhere, so she just nods to Buffy and holds the door open for her. 

They track the demon down easily - he’s only a block from the magic shop - and tag team him. Faith lands a knife in his arm and another in his thigh, and then she lets Buffy handle the rest, because the fighting seems to be bringing her fully back to life. Faith watches as Buffy slams the demon with punches and kicks, all of it looking effortless, and feels a strange pulling in her chest. 

Buffy finally stabs the demon through the heart, and they watch as he turns into ashes and blows away down the street.

“Feeling better?” Faith asks, and she’s rewarded when the corner of Buffy’s mouth curls slightly upwards. 

It’s not quite a smile, but it’s a start.

They start to walk home, Faith twirling her unused stake through her fingers so that she doesn’t do something stupid like reach for Buffy’s hand. The sun slides out from behind a cloud and Buffy is illuminated in the light, her hair shimmering like gold, and Faith is struck by how perfect it looks, how natural.

And suddenly she knows for sure. 

“You were in heaven, weren’t you,” she says, more of a statement than a question.

Buffy snaps her head up, looks at Faith with a guarded expression. “How did you know?”

It’s Faith’s turn to laugh now. “Where else would you be?” she asks. 

Buffy’s quiet for a moment. “I’m not completely sure where I was,” she says finally. “But wherever I was, I was warm and content and I knew that everyone I loved was safe. I was...finished. And yeah, I think that it might have been heaven.”   


Faith tastes bile in her mouth, and thinks that she might be sick. Willow ripped Buffy out of  _ heaven.  _

Buffy speaks again, before Faith can even try to put anything she’s feeling to words. “You can’t tell them,” she says. “They don’t know.” 

Faith wants to say no. She wants to say that they don’t deserve to be sheltered from the truth, that they need to know what they’ve done. But she looks at Buffy’s pleading face and knows that she can’t deny her. 

“I won’t,” Faith says, and it’s worth it to see the way Buffy’s shoulders visibly relax. “Thank you,” she replies. 

They walk on in silence now, and all Faith can think about Buffy. Buffy, who’s just been ripped out of heaven by the people who are supposed to love her most, but is still asking Faith to help protect her friends from the horrible truth of what they’ve done. 

Faith thinks about Buffy, and knows that although the world may need her, it certainly doesn’t deserve her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clarify, this isn't a "canonical season six but faith is there" au. there's a different plot that contains a couple key elements of s6. the concept of a socially inept nerd trio antagonizing buffy and the scoobies is something that i simply have no desire to write about

As if it’s not enough for Buffy to be torn out of heaven, her so-called friends dump a whole pile of problems on her almost as soon as she’s back.

Faith sits in the corner of the living room, watches as Willow piles a stack of bills and legal notices in front of Buffy and tells her that the house needs a lot of maintenance. It’s kind of fucked up, Faith thinks, and now she feels guilty because she’s living in the basement and that’s one more person to pay for. 

“Okay,” Buffy says. “So there’s things to pay for. How much money do I have?”

Willow winces. “Um...not that much.”

Buffy presses a hand to her forehead, and Faith wishes she could help somehow. Of course, she could probably get money somehow, but her methods definitely wouldn’t be Buffy-approved. 

“Sorry,” Willow says guiltily. “I know this is a lot to drop on you right after...but the electric company keeps calling, and the sink is backed up…”

“I’ll deal with it,” Buffy says. “Just give me a minute, okay, Will?”

Willow’s look of guilt shifts to one of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine. I just need a moment.” 

Willow still looks worried, but she nods and slips out of the room, going into the kitchen. Buffy reaches for the bills in front of her, slowly spreading them out on the table and starting to unfold the first few sheets of paper. Faith gathers her courage and walks over to Buffy, looking over her shoulder at the envelopes. Billingsley Electric, Sunnydale Communications, EntertainmenTV…

“Hey,” Faith says. “Anything I can do to help?”

Buffy looks up at her tiredly. “I don’t think so. I just - I never really had to worry about this stuff before, because Mom would always take care of it. And now I  _ am _ the mom, I guess. Have to keep everything running, even when I don’t feel like I can keep myself running.”

Faith nods, even though she can’t really relate. Her method of paying for things has always been either  _ take by force _ or  _ do without, _ and she’d never been able to rely on her mother to take care of anything except the bottles of alcohol by the sink.

So she can’t help with Buffy’s money problems, but maybe she can help some other way.

“Do you want to patrol?” Faith asks, blurting out the words before she can think better of it. Buffy considers her for a moment and Faith is starting to think that the offer was a mistake, cause it’s sure not going to help pay the bills, but then she nods.

“Okay,” Buffy says, shoving the pile of papers away from her. “Let’s go.” 

They grab their coats and weapons, and Faith turns her head away to hide the smile that’s threatening to take over her face.

//

Even though Buffy’s back, some days it almost seems like she’s not. 

Faith keeps an eye on her, because she physically can’t stop herself. Every time they’re in the same room, her gaze is drawn to Buffy like a magnet. And she doesn’t always like what she sees. (In the metaphysical sense, anyways.)

Buffy’s quieter, more withdrawn than Faith has ever seen her. She tends to stare off into the distance, even when people are talking to her, and Faith gets the sense that she’s thinking of her time in heaven. She seems distant, farther away. 

Faith knows that Buffy’s friends see it too, and she knows that they’re worried. She sees the looks that flash between Willow and Dawn and Tara when Buffy takes a second too long to answer a question, or spaces out in the middle of a conversation. 

Faith holds back her anger, because she knows that they don’t know. But she makes it her mission to stick around Buffy as often as she can, just in case she needs help.

Just to keep her from drifting away entirely.

One thing that does seem to help is patrolling. Buffy’s focused when she fights, grounded and disciplined. She comes alive again in the cemetery or back alley or sewers or wherever they’re fighting vamps and demons that night. So Faith makes sure that they get out of the house often, if not every night. 

She doesn’t quite stop worrying, though. A small part of her freezes in fear every time she sees Buffy going up against anything demonic. 

She knows that Buffy can more than take care of herself - she  _ knows _ that - but she can’t help being scared anyways. Sometimes it feels like a dream, having Buffy back, and Faith is terrified that she’s going to wake up any moment. So she does her best to protect Buffy any time she can.

Like now.

“B, watch out,” she yells, rolling to her right and stabbing a vamp through the heart. He disappears in a cloud of yellow dust, and Faith wipes her face briefly. 

They’re in the graveyard near the sewers, fighting six vamps, and this is the kind of fight that Faith would normally wrap up like a Christmas present, but she’s not fighting as well as she usually does because she’s only half concentrating. The other part of her focus is on Buffy, keeping track of her and making sure that she’s fine.

Buffy’s about ten feet away, kicking a vamp in the chest just as another jumps onto her back from behind. She flips him off easily and goes to stake him.

Faith’s breath catches in her throat as she watches the other vamp get to his feet, clearly ready to attack Buffy from behind. With a sudden burst of energy, Faith dives at the vamp, tackling him to the ground as Buffy finishes dusting the first one and turns back to handle him.

“Can I?” Faith asks from her position on the ground, plucking the stake from Buffy’s hand and plunging it into the vamp’s heart. She gets up, brushing her pants off, and hands the stake back to Buffy. 

Buffy takes it with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Faith asks defensively. “I’m killing vamps. Kinda what the Slayers are supposed to do.”

“No, but you’re not fighting the way you used to.”

Faith cocks her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”   


“It’s like…” Buffy stops for a moment, searches for the right words. “Like you’re holding back. Like you’re trying to fight my battles for me...like you’re protecting me.”

Faith laughs like that’s the most ridiculous idea ever. “Right. I’m protecting ya. Missed the memo where you hired me as your bodyguard, I guess.” Buffy doesn’t reply, just stares at her intently, and Faith looks away. 

“Your acting skills have gotten worse,” Buffy says. She starts walking out of the graveyard, and Faith has no choice but to follow. 

//

They go out on patrol every night and they start finding their rhythm again. They always fought best together, and neither of them can deny it. Buffy’s precision combined with Faith’s passion makes them a perfect Slaying unit.

Sometimes it almost feels like they’re seventeen again. Faith will look at Buffy, eyes shining after they kill a sewer demon or destroy a vamp nest, and for a moment she can trick herself into thinking that they’re still in  _ that _ time, back before the betrayal and the coma and the death. 

And then she’ll see the pain masked behind Buffy’s expression, and she’ll remember. 

It’s strange walking home together after patrolling, and it’s even stranger to barely acknowledge each others’ existence once they’re back in the house. Faith and Buffy move around like the sun and the moon, aware of each others’ presence but almost never colliding. It’s awkward but it’s better than nothing, and on some level it’s the way they’ve always operated, so Faith makes it work.

They’re not friends, exactly, but they’re not enemies, either.

Faith still doesn’t know how long she’ll be staying in Sunnydale. She hasn’t even considered returning to prison, and Buffy hasn’t mentioned it yet, but she’s certain that the Scoobies are hoping she’ll be gone any day now.

Fuck them. She’s staying as long as Buffy will let her, and maybe longer than that. She doesn’t ever want to leave Buffy again.

//

Faith isn’t really sure where she stands with Buffy. They patrol together, yes, but they don’t do much talking about anything besides the things that they’re killing. Still, she’s spending almost every night with Buffy, and that’s a lot more than she could have hoped for two years ago. (It’s a lot more than she could have hoped for two  _ months _ ago.) 

Spike doesn’t like the new arrangement. 

He meets them in the graveyard sometimes, sits and watches as they fight creatures of the night, or gives them information about new demons running around town. Sometimes he even joins in on the fights.

Faith can’t blame him for that, she guesses; his chip only lets him attack demons, and she understands having an innate desire for violence. (Hey, it’s therapeutic sometimes.) She supposes he has to get his rocks off somehow.

What she doesn’t like is the way that he looks at Buffy. 

Faith recognizes it all too well - his gaze is full of poorly disguised longing mixed with a sharp kind of hunger. She used to look at Buffy like that too, back before she ruined everything with her. 

Spike’s going to be a problem. She knows that for sure. What she doesn’t know is  _ when, _ exactly.

So she keeps track of the pointed remarks he makes about her to Buffy when he thinks that she’s not listening, and she vows to keep an eye on him.

//

Xander shows up at the house one day with a yellow construction helmet under his arm, and a leather tool belt wrapped around his waist. He’s clearly come directly from work. 

Faith’s the one who opens the door to him, and she kind of has to laugh. 

“Hey there, Bob the builder,” she says, letting him into the house. “What’s up?”

“Hilarious,” Xander mutters, setting down the hard hat and running his hands through his hair. “Is Buffy here?”

“Here,” Buffy says, waving from the dining room table. Xander walks over to her. “Shouldn’t you be at work now?”

“Yeah,” Faith adds, trying on Xander’s hat now. She tips it at a rakish angle, covering one eye. “Don’t you have a house to build or a two-by-four to shove up your ass?”   


Xander glowers at her, then turns back to Buffy. “I was at work. That’s why I’m here, actually. A problem came up.” 

Faith tilts her head. “Got a load of wood that’s too heavy for ya, huh?” She smirks as Xander glares at her even more.

Buffy gets up from the table, brushing past her on the way to the door. “Let’s go. Xander, show us the problem.”

Xander motions towards Faith. “Does she have to come too?”

“Hell yeah I’m coming,” Faith says indignantly. “And I’m keeping the hat.”

//

“Well,” Buffy says twenty minutes later. “This is it, huh?” 

Xander nods.

They’re at one of Xander’s construction sites, pipes and lumber and bulldozers all around them, and they’re standing around a large hole in the ground, looking down into the depths. It’s uncomfortably reminiscent of the hole that Buffy crawled out of when she was resurrected, and Faith backs up from the edge a little. 

Buffy kicks experimentally at the ground next to the hole, sending a spray of dirt and rocks falling down into it. Nothing happens. 

“Uh, correct me if I’m wrong,” she says to Xander, “but don’t you construction worker types  _ want _ to dig holes? I’m not really seeing the problem here.”

“We started digging this hole this morning for the building foundation, but we realized that the foreman laid out the stakes wrong and this hole should have been dug way over that way.” Xander points to a spot roughly five hundred feet away, where a couple men in construction vests are gathered.

“And you want us to kick the guy’s ass?” Faith asks. “I can roll with that.”

Xander sighs. “No,” he says patiently. “I want you to look at this.” He picks up a shovel and pushes it into the pile of dirt near the hole, starting to fill it in. Faith and Buffy watch as he works.

Faith leans over to Buffy. “Thrilling as this is, I didn’t exactly wanna spend my day watching the Incredible Hard Hat sling a shovel.”

“Feels like I’m reading  _ Holes _ all over again,” Buffy agrees. 

Faith nudges her. “If we’re still standing here in three minutes, can I push him in?”

Buffy shoots her a look, just as Xander flings in one more shovelful of dirt and steps back. “Look,” he says. 

When Faith looks into the hole, she’s not impressed. “I don’t really see a difference, dude,” she says. “Ya ever thought about improving your upper body strength? Maybe do some push ups, an extra arm day at the gym…”

Xander looks like he wants to hit her in the face with the shovel. “That’s just it. There is no difference. It’s like the hole is digging itself. We’ve tried to fill this thing in three times today, and every time it’s just cleared out again.”

Buffy frowns. “Oh. Well, that is a little weird.” 

“Not exactly life threatening, though,” Faith says. She looks down into the hole one more time, scanning for clues of some kind, but sees nothing except rocks and dirt and a couple roots. “Unless there’s some kind of evil mole demons that are gonna rise up and invade Sunnydale.”

“Thanks for telling us, Xand,” Buffy says. “Maybe keep your guys away from the area until we figure out what’s going on.” 

Xander nods. “Okay. I’m going to go back to work then. See you guys later.”

Faith is halfway across the site when she realizes that she’s still wearing Xander's hard hat. She shrugs and keeps walking. If a brick falls on him and breaks his head open, well, whatever. Not her problem. 

Plus, it’s kind of a comfortable hat. 

//

Faith’s in the kitchen that night, finding herself some dinner and pretending that she isn’t aware of Buffy sitting on the couch in the living room. Even though there’s five people living together in the house, they’ve worked out a sort of understanding that they never do meals together. 

Someone always eats with Dawn, and it’s never Faith, and that’s the only hard and fast rule about mealtimes in the Summers household.

Faith doesn’t mind, not really. It’s nice to have time to eat by herself, after months and months of meals eaten in the crowded prison cafeteria. And this way, no one gets to judge what she’s eating.

She’s grabbed a plate of cold pizza, two cheese sticks, and a bag of potato chips, and she’s trying to balance a cup of instant noodles in her hand as well, when Buffy calls to her from the sofa. “Faith, come in here.”

Faith pokes her head into the living room, still balancing her tower of calories. “Yeah?”   


Buffy gestures to the TV, which is tuned to the local news channel. “Trouble.” 

Faith sits down next to her, making sure to leave a few inches of space in between them. Back in the old days of doing anything to get a rise out of Buffy, Faith would have sat down practically on her lap, but now she’s being more careful. 

She glances at the TV screen to see a reporter standing in front of a ranch house, microphone in hand. Behind him are the flashing lights of cop cars and an ambulance. 

“Emergency services have been called to deal with four reported casualties,” the reporter is saying. “While a formal autopsy will not be happening for some time, the apparent cause of death seems to be blood loss in all four cases. The deceased were all young girls - ” The audio starts crackling, cutting in and out, but Faith has heard enough.

“Vamps, you think?” she asks. 

Buffy nods. “Seems like it.” 

“Damn,” Faith mutters. “Well, I guess we’d better go check it out.” 

“Tomorrow,” Buffy says. “They’ll all be cleared out by then.” She waves at the TV, indicating the ambulance and squad cars filling the driveway.

Faith stretches out on the sofa, leaning back and making herself comfortable before digging into her cup noodles. “Sounds good,” she says through a full mouthful of food. Buffy regards her like she’s mildly disgusting.

“Is that seriously what you’re eating?” she asks. “I don’t think there’s a single nutritious thing in that pile. No wonder we keep running out of snacks.”

Faith freezes, her fork halfway to her mouth. With all the patrols and demon fighting going on, she’d almost forgotten about the money situation. 

“Do ya want me to put some of it back?” she offers. 

Buffy looks at her and sighs. “No, forget it.” 

They sit there staring at the TV for a while, Faith finishing her noodles and feeling guilty with every bite. Just when she’s about to get up and go down to the basement, Buffy reaches over and pushes her arm lightly. It’s the first time they’ve come into skin to skin contact since the night that Buffy was resurrected, and Faith has to work hard not to lean into the touch.

“Yeah?” she asks, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as shaky as her breath is. 

Buffy peers at the pile of food by her side. “Are those potato chips?” 

Faith passes her the bag and they sit side by side, sharing the chips, silent but not uncomfortably so. It’s the first real time they’ve spent together that hasn’t been filled with fighting.

They’re still sitting together when Dawn gets home from her friend’s house. Dawn gives them a strange glance as she passes by, but sits down at the dining room table without comment. 

Buffy switches the channel to some old movie. Faith watches through half-closed eyes, sneaking glances at her and trying not to smile to herself.

//

The house where the four girls died the night before is roped off with yellow caution tape, but Faith and Buffy duck under it with no problem. They enter through the back door, Buffy easily forcing the lock out of position. 

Inside, the house is unnervingly normal looking, like at any moment the people who lived there might show up and ask what they’re doing there. Faith looks around at the kitchen, decorated with paintings and postcards, and feels a small twinge of regret for the lives that were lived within these walls. 

Buffy walks into the living room and crouches by the coffee table, where there’s a dark stain on the rug. “There’s something here,” she says. 

Faith joins her, poking a finger experimentally at the stain. Her finger comes away with red traces on the tip. “Dried blood.” 

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “Which is weird. Vamps usually don’t spill when they’re feeding.”

“So we got a sloppy drinker on our hands. Great.” Faith wipes the flecks of blood off her fingertips. 

“I don’t know,” Buffy says slowly. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.” She straightens up and walks over to the shelves by the TV, pacing back and forth. “I mean, vampires usually don’t break into houses to find blood, either. Their deal is more of grabbing people in alleyways or dragging them out behind the Bronze to bite them. Something’s not adding up here.” 

Faith considers this. She’s not really digging this Nancy Drew gig, but Buffy’s got a point. “So what do we do?”

“We need more info,” Buffy says. “Maybe a copy of the police report, a scan of the autopsy. Or a look at the bodies.” 

“Are you saying we have to break into the morgue?”

//

“I fucking hate the hospital,” Faith mutters. They’re walking through the halls of Sunnydale General, heading for the morgue in the west wing, and it’s all a little too familiar for Faith’s liking. The linoleum tiles and bright fluorescent lights and aggressively white walls make her feel trapped and uncomfortable. 

Buffy says nothing, just walks a little faster. They pass through a waiting room with shabby chairs, and it doesn’t mean anything special to Faith. but Buffy looks nauseated at the sight of it. She hurries through the room towards a set of white double doors at the end. 

Faith catches up to her, noting the way that Buffy’s hands are shaking as she sets them against the doors. Impulsively, she reaches out and places her own hands over Buffy’s, stilling them for a moment. Buffy turns to look at her, eyes full of surprise. 

“Hey,” Faith says. “You good?”

Buffy nods, a quick jerk of the head. “Just...bad memories.” 

Faith glances behind her and catches sight of a sign that says Cancer Ward, and suddenly it clicks. This is where Buffy’s mom was. 

God, she feels bad. Joyce Summers tried to give her a chance - really tried - and now she’s dead, and the last time Faith saw her was when she was trying to murder the woman.

She wants to say something to Buffy about it, to apologize or console, but she doesn’t know how to do it in a way that will sound good enough, so she just gives Buffy’s hands a quick squeeze before dropping them. Buffy nods again, like she’s okay now, and pushes the doors open.

The morgue is cold and white and immaculate, and it freaks Faith out even more than the rest of the hospital does. She looks around, taking in the white-shrouded forms lying horizontally on rows of tables. 

“Do you know how they organize the bodies?” she asks in a whisper. It just doesn’t seem right to talk at a normal volume in a room like this. 

Buffy shakes her head. “We’ll have to uncover them all.” 

They walk over to the first table and Faith reaches for the first white sheet, pulling it back to reveal a middle aged man. She shuts her eyes against the sudden flashback, remembering the man she stabbed three years ago, the look of surprise on his face. 

“Not one of the victims,” Buffy says, and it’s only then that Faith notices just how rattled she looks. She’s shivering in the cold of the room, arms wrapped around her. 

“Here,” Faith says, sliding her leather jacket off and draping it over Buffy’s shoulders. It’s a little big on her, since she’s about four inches shorter than Faith, but it’ll do the job.

(Faith brushes away the thought that Buffy looks really good in her clothes, because they’re literally in a morgue investigating the murder of four girls. She’ll think about it later. A lot.) 

Buffy crosses to the next table and uncovers the body on it to reveal a girl who looks to be a few years older than them. “Here’s one.” 

Faith studies the corpse, noting its white color and the neat slits in the arms. “This looks real neat, almost like a surgeon bled her out or somethin’. You were right, B. This ain't from vamps. Unless there’s a bunch of fanged doctors running around somewhere.” She quickly uncovers the other three girls and her theory is confirmed; they all bear the same precise incisions. 

“Shit,” Buffy mutters. “Well, that makes this more complicated.”

“We got what we need,” Faith says. “Let’s go.” She has no intention of staying in this goddamn hospital a second longer than she has to. 

Buffy nods, her expression saying she’s glad to be leaving, and the two of them re-cover the bodies and head for the exit.

“Where to now?” Faith asks as they walk along the street. She spreads her arms out wide, glad to be outside in the warmth of the sun. That hospital gave her the damn creeps. 

Buffy pulls her cell phone out of her pocket. “We’re going to the magic shop. I’ll tell Willow to meet us there so we can hit the books.” She starts punching in the numbers. 

It’s late in the morning and much warmer out now, but Faith notices that Buffy makes no move to take off her jacket. 

//

Willow’s waiting for them at the magic shop, half hidden behind a giant stack of books piled onto the table. Faith climbs halfway up the ladder to the book loft and perches there, surveying the store. She already knows that she won’t be much help with the research. Books aren’t her thing; there’s a reason she dropped out of high school. 

Buffy gives Willow a quick rundown of what the victims looked like, and Willow starts flipping through pages. Faith leans her head back against the railing and closes her eyes for a minute. May as well catch forty winks while she can.

The bell over the door jingles and Faith cracks an eye open to see Tara coming in, followed by Dawn. Two more for the research fest. 

Willow and Buffy are talking now and Faith does her best to listen in. Might not be the polite thing to do, but hey, she’s gotta stay informed somehow. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, because she can only hear snatches of the conversation, an indistinct mumble of  _ blood drainings  _ and  _ four girls _ and  _ more books  _ and  _ hospital? Buffy, I’m sorry,  _ and she’s just about to give up when she hears Dawn say, loud and clear, “Buffy, isn’t that Faith’s jacket?” 

Buffy stutters out an incomprehensible answer, and Faith grins to herself.

The book banging goes on forever and Faith is almost fully asleep when the ladder she’s sitting on starts shaking. She steadies herself and opens her eyes to see Dawn standing there, looking irritated. 

“Well, hello to you too,” Faith says. 

Dawn scowls at her. “Are you going to help us at all, or what?”

Faith waves her arm towards the table. “Thought y’all could handle it,” she says in a lazy drawl. “Buffy knows I’m not about the research, don’t ya, B?”

Dawn opens her mouth to say something else, but Buffy calls her back over to the table. “Leave her alone, Dawn. There’s more books to go through.” 

Faith almost falls off of her ladder in surprise. There’s no way that Buffy was just defending her. She looks over, trying to catch a glimpse of Buffy’s expression, but Buffy’s already got her nose buried in another dusty book. 

Well. She’ll take it anyway.

//

“Why  _ do _ you hate researching so much?” Buffy asks that night, while they’re walking through the graveyard. “Even back when you first came to Sunnydale, you never really wanted to wait for Giles to dig up info on whatever demon we were fighting at the time.

Faith laughs. “You’re asking me why I don’t like books? I’m a high school dropout, B. Kinda speaks for itself.”

Buffy hums thoughtfully, sitting down on a long, low gravestone. “Oh. Yeah. I know a bit about dropping out now, too. I had to leave UC Sunnydale after my mom...you know.”

Faith sits down next to her. “Yeah.” She pauses for a moment. “Hey, Buffy - I’m sorry about your mom. Really am. I know that sounds kinda rich, considering what I did to her, but she was a really good person. She tried to give me a chance. Not her fault I blew it.”

Buffy doesn’t answer, and Faith sighs. “She was nicer to me than my own mom ever was, anyway. Not that that’s saying much.”

“Yours was that bad, huh?”

“Bad at everything but drinking and yelling and passing out on the apartment floor.” 

Buffy tips her head to the side. “Well then, I’m sorry about your mom, too.”

“S’alright,” Faith mumbles. She doesn’t like to linger on memories of her mother that much, cause none of them are good. Half wishing that she hadn’t mentioned it at all, she shifts around on the bench and changes the subject. “Are you thinkin’ about going back to college at all?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, her shoulders slumping a little. “I want to, but with everything that’s happening, especially the money stuff, I just don’t know if I could make it work.” 

“Money’s not impossible,” Faith says. “I’m sure I could dig up some cash somewhere.”

“Plus, I’d have to apply again, and I’m not sure they’d accept me. I can’t exactly put ‘died for six months’ down for my extracurriculars.” 

Faith shakes her head. “Course they’d accept you.”

“You think?” 

“They’d be dumb not to.” 

Buffy considers Faith for a moment, probably trying to see if she’s being sarcastic. Faith offers her a quick smile.

“As heartwarming as this little chat is,” says a voice from behind them, “I have to interrupt for a moment.” There’s the sound of a lighter clicking, and then the smell of cigarette smoke fills the air. 

Faith shakes her head, frustrated. Of course he had to show up just when she was starting to get somewhere with Buffy. 

“Well spit it out then, Spike,” she says. “We ain’t got all night here.” 

Spike walks slowly around the tombstone until he’s in front of them, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. He looks at Buffy like he can’t get enough of her, and Faith wants to get up and deck him right there, but she manages to hold back.

“Those girls who were murdered,” he says finally. “That wasn’t the work of a vampire.”

“Yeah, we know,” Faith snaps. “Ya got anything useful for us, or not?”

Spike flicks at the ash on the end of his cigarette. “The beastie that did it is an Sycophantus demon. Fairly harmless little bugger, could probably put him down within minutes.” 

Buffy stiffens, and Faith sees that her hands are clenching. “It wasn’t so harmless when it was killing four girls.”

“Yeah, well.” Spike shrugs unconcernedly. “From what I’ve heard, it’s been hanging around in the western woods, near that new construction site. The one that your man-child friend is working on.”

Faith raises an eyebrow, turns to Buffy. “Coincidence, you think?”

“Could be. With our luck? Probably not.” Buffy stands up. “Spike, do you know if the demon is there right now?”

Spike takes another drag of his cigarette. “Maybe. Don’t know, really.”

“Yeah, thanks for the help,” Faith mutters. “C’mon, B. We’ll go check it out real quick.”

“I’m coming,” Spike says, pitching his cigarette to the ground. Faith skewers him with a laser eye, and Spike slowly bends down and picks the end up, pushing it into his pocket. 

“We don’t need you,” Faith says. 

Spike scoffs. “Right you are, then. One murderer’s company, two’s a crowd, eh?” He nods to Buffy. “I’ll be around, Slayer.” He walks away through the rows of gravestones, his leather coat flapping behind him. 

Faith grits her teeth and quietly promises herself that someday she’ll give the slimy bastard the ass-kicking that he deserves. Buffy’s looking in the direction that Spike went, and Faith bites her lip. Buffy’s not interested in him. She can’t be. Faith won’t believe it.

“So,” she says, her voice significantly lighter than her mood. “Into the woods we go. Do I get to carry the picnic basket?”

//

The forest is darker than the shades of lipstick Faith used to wear, and she’s tripped over at least three branches in the last minute. Cursing, she swats at the air in front of her and is rewarded by a branch smacking into her face. 

“Screw this,” she grumbles. “We shoulda waited until it was light out.” 

Buffy sighs, and Faith can barely even see her hand in front of her face, but she can still perfectly picture the look on Buffy’s face. “You’re the one who wanted to check it out.”

“Well, I’m having second thoughts,” Faith says. She reaches for her knife and stake, feeling the reassuring comfort of their weight. “We need a goddamn blowtorch or something. I just know I’m gonna end up getting lost and wandering around the woods until morning.”

“And then what, the big bad wolf will show up to eat you?” Buffy says. 

Faith trips again and swears, kicking out at the darkness. 

“For god’s sake,” Buffy says. There’s a moment of silence and then Faith feels Buffy’s hand slipping into her own. “Will you shut up about getting lost now?”

Faith feels her heart speed up. Buffy’s skin is warm, and touching her is like touching a live wire. Faith feels it everywhere. 

They slog on through the woods, snapping branches underfoot, and Faith knows that if the demon is in here, there’s no way in hell it won’t hear them coming a mile off. She’s not too worried though; the demon is the last thing on her mind right now.

After about fifteen minutes of walking they reach the edge of the woods, coming to a dimly lit field that Faith recognizes as being near Xander’s construction site. There’s still not a single sign of the demon.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Buffy says, dropping Faith’s hand. “We should probably come back when it’s light out. We’ll never find this thing tonight.” 

Faith is about to reply when she feels the skin on the back of her neck start to tingle, and she whirls around to see that the demon they’ve been looking for is right there, flying through the air towards them. She shoves Buffy out of the way, diving to the right to avoid getting flattened like a pancake.

“Think we found him,” she says, rolling forward and settling into a fighting stance. 

The demon growls and charges her, but Faith is ready. She sidesteps him and trips him up, sending him falling to the ground. Buffy quickly locks her arms around his neck, giving it a sharp twist, and Faith hears a nasty snapping sound. Buffy releases the demon and it flops backwards, clearly on its way out. 

“That was easy,” Faith says lightly. “Didn’t even have to bring out the weapons.”

The demon opens one eye and stares at them, his gaze full of twisted anger. “I am the least...of those who serve my master,” he hisses, his voice distorted and cracking. Death rattle. “The others will not be so easy...to defeat.” His eye closes and his body goes limp.

“He had a master,” Faith says, almost to herself. “Well, that’s great. Do you think - ” She trails off as she glances over at Buffy, whose eyes are slightly glazed over. Faith nudges her, concerned. “B?”

“Yeah,” Buffy mumbles. “Fine.”

“You’re not, though,” Faith says. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Buffy starts walking, and Faith hustles to catch up. “B. Talk to me.” 

“I don’t know,” Buffy says. “It’s just like...did that fight even matter? Does anything we do even matter?” 

Faith’s shaken by this, shaken by the great and righteous Buffy Summers not being absolutely convinced that she’s fighting the good fight against the forces of evil. “Of course it does. You know that.”

“I used to,” Buffy says quietly. “But now nothing seems real anymore. Just feels like I’m stuck in place, going through the motions, not knowing what life is.” 

She’s walking slowly now, shoulders hunched, face lined with tiredness. So different from the upright golden girl of Sunnydale that Faith used to know. 

“I’m just so tired,” Buffy continues. “Being here, living again, it’s so exhausting. I have to make it through every minute, and then through every hour, and then through every day, over and over and over. I used to save the world and now it feels like I’m carrying the weight of it on my shoulders, and I don’t know how to fix this.”

Faith can only see half of Buffy’s face; the rest is washed out in shadows. Here in the dark, it feels like she’s walking with a ghost.

Buffy sighs, a long exhale so tired and full of pain that it makes Faith’s lungs hurt in solidarity. She reaches over to hold Buffy’s hand again, to assure both of them that she’s here. Buffy turns her head away, and Faith can see a single tear sliding down her face, shimmering in the weak light of the moon. 

“I just want to be alive,” Buffy says, and Faith thinks,  _ Yeah. That’s all I wanted, too. _

//

Faith sleeps in late the next morning, and when she comes upstairs, only Willow is at home. Faith is surprised at the rush of anger that she feels when she looks at the redheaded witch, who’s sitting at the dining room table with her laptop open. All she can think about is how ruined Buffy seemed last night, how desperately tired.

And it’s all Willow’s fault. 

“Hey,” Willow says, clearly oblivious to Faith’s feelings towards her. 

Faith manages to keep her voice casual, but it’s a struggle. “Yo. Where is everyone?”   


“Dawn is at school, Buffy is food shopping, and Tara is at the magic shop picking up some ingredients for a new spell I wanted to try,” Willow says. “If it goes well, I’ll be able to make a great wedding present for Xander and Anya.”

“Right, because your spells just have a history of going  _ so _ well,” Faith mutters. 

Willow stops tapping at the keyboard and looks up at her, eyes wide and offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Faith bites her lip, regretting saying anything. She can’t let loose on Willow, because she promised Buffy she wouldn’t tell any of her friends. But goddamn, it’s tempting. 

“Nothing,” she says, starting towards the kitchen. 

A soft whooshing noise fills the room and Faith is suddenly surrounded by some kind of invisible restraint, unable to move another step. She tries to break free, but only succeeds in straining her arm. 

_ Willow.  _ That bitch must have done some kind of spell. Faith manages to twist around just far enough to see her still sitting at the table, hand outstretched towards Faith.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Faith spits. At least her mouth can move. 

“Oh my god,” Willow says, sounding strangely upset considering that she’s not the one being attacked by a witchy binding spell. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” She chants some kind of rhyme and Faith finds herself able to move again. 

“I’m sorry,” Willow says, and she looks almost scared. “I didn’t mean to cast that. I thought that it would have stopped by now.”

Faith doesn’t know what the girl is talking about, but she really doesn’t care. “Listen, Red. I may be on your side now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate to deck you if you try and catch me with another of your little spells.”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Willow repeats. “I’ve never done that before. My magic isn’t supposed to hurt people.”

And that’s it. That’s the last straw. Faith can literally feel something snapping inside. Her temper. Her nerves. Her self control, maybe.

“Your magic isn’t supposed to hurt people?” she asks, her voice dripping in bitter sarcasm. “Then what do you call that spell you used to revive Buffy and pull her out of the ground? Was it  _ not hurting her  _ when you pushed life back into her body and air back into her lungs and forced her to live again?”

Willow’s jaw drops. “Are you crazy? I was helping her!”

“No, you weren’t,” Faith snaps. “You were helping yourself. You needed a solution to your problems, and it was easier to bring her back than to find a real way to fix them.”

“She fell through a dimensional hole in the sky,” Willow protests. “She could have been anywhere, she could have been in some horrible hell dimension, being tortured…”

Faith lets out a derisive laugh. “No fucking way, Red. We’re talking about  _ Buffy _ . She’s saved your life, all of your lives, how many times? She’s faced multiple apocalypses and she  _ died _ to save the world and you think she’d be in any kind of hell? What kind of friend are you?”

“Stop it,” Willow says. “You wanted her back too, I know you did…”

“Of course I wanted her back,” Faith grits out.  _ More than anything in the world.  _ “But that doesn’t mean that it’s right.”

She’s pacing back and forth now, her voice raised to a shout, her hands clenching and unclenching in frustration. “She was done. She was  _ finished _ . She was at peace for the first time in her life. Being the Slayer means that you’re thrust into a war that never ends, and she finally managed to escape it. And what did you do? You ripped her out.”

Faith’s stomach starts aching now, as she realizes that she’s broken her promise to Buffy. Well, it’s not like it’s the first time Faith’s let her down. 

Willow’s crying now, tears running down her face and staining her shirt. “I had to,” she says between sobs.

“Bullshit.”

“I had to bring her back,” Willow insists. “Faith, I needed her. I  _ needed _ her.” 

As soon as Faith hears those words, all her anger drains away. She looks at Willow, who’s sitting there wiping away tears, and feels a deep sense of empathy suddenly wash over her.

If there’s one thing she understands better than anything in this life, it’s needing Buffy Summers. 

She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she walks out of the room.

//

Faith goes back down to the basement and beats on the punching bag for almost half an hour. She doesn’t know what else to do.

She doesn’t bother wrapping her hands, so her knuckles start bleeding. She keeps going anyway.

Buffy is in trouble, and Faith has no idea how to fix it. 

Faith knows that there were never supposed to be two Slayers alive at the same time. She and Buffy have to share life, in a way, and she’s always felt like Buffy got more of it. 

Until now. 

And instead of gloating about it, instead of enjoying the fact that she’s finally doing better than Buffy, all she wants to do is find a way to help. 

Buffy looked so lost last night. So defeated. So wrong. 

It wasn’t right. Faith is supposed to be the fucked up Slayer, the one who walked the wrong path, the one who gets kicked around and shit on by life. Buffy is supposed to be…

Buffy is supposed to be untouchable. 

Faith punches the bag again, and a seam starts to pop along the edge. She keeps hitting anyways.

//

Xander comes by the next day, looking grim. Faith and Buffy take the hike out to the construction site with him again, and Faith doesn’t crack any jokes this time.

“So what’s happening here now?” she asks as they pick their way through the site. 

“Remember those girls who got drained?” Xander says. “Well, I think I know where the blood went.” 

They reach the pit, which looks more like a crater now - a deep, wide depression in the earth that stretches open like a gaping mouth. And at the bottom of it…

“Oh,” Buffy says, her voice sounding a little higher than usual. “Great.”

There’s a large pentacle at the base of the crater, the circle and five-pointed star dug out in wide trenches that are filled with blood. 

“That demon must have made this before we killed him last night,” Faith says. 

“Either that or there’s another one running around town.” Buffy casts a dubious look at the crater. “I don’t really want to walk down in there without knowing more about this. Xander, you should probably pull your guys off this job for now, just until we know what’s going on.” 

Xander nods and walks off towards the trailer near the side of the site. 

“This can wait a day, right?” Buffy asks, sounding more like she’s convincing herself than Faith. “We’ll be back as soon as we do some research.”

“Course it can,” Faith says. “It’ll be fine until tomorrow.” 

//

There’s a humming noise coming from somewhere in the basement, and Faith just buries her head underneath her pillow, because she really just wants to keep sleeping. The tune sounds vaguely familiar for some reason, but she’s too tired to figure it out.

But the humming doesn’t stop, and Faith eventually has to open her eyes to see where it’s coming from. She doesn’t see anyone else in the basement. Weird.

That’s when she realizes that she’s the one humming. She stops instantly. 

“What the fuck,” Faith mutters to herself, rolling out of bed and reaching for some clean clothes. 

She quickly realizes that she’s not the only one who’s come down with a bad case of musical inclination. Willow is actually singing as she makes pancakes in the kitchen.

Faith clears her throat, leaning against the counter and waiting for Willow to stop. Two painful minutes later, Willow finishes her song and acknowledges Faith’s presence for the first time. 

“What’s with the musical number?” Faith asks. 

Willow frowns. “I don’t know. I’ve been singing all morning for some reason, and I don’t think I’m the only one.” 

As the words leave her mouth, Buffy comes in through the front door. “Guys, there’s something weird going on in town. We have to get to the magic shop.” 

Willow abandons her pancakes and the three of them set off for the Magic Box. Faith sees people out in the streets in full force, some dancing with each other, others standing around with their hands on their hearts, belting out songs at top volume. It’s strange, and also really annoying. There’s a reason she used to make fun of the theater kids back when she was still in high school.

“What the hell is going on?” she asks as they pass a woman who’s singing a protest against the cop who ticketed her car. 

“No idea,” Buffy says. “But we’d better find out soon. I’ve never been a big fan of musical theater.”

Tara, Dawn, Xander, and Anya are already at the shop when they arrive, sitting around and discussing possible reasons as to why Sunnydale is suddenly putting on a town-wide Broadway performance. Faith flops down in a chair, kicking her feet up onto the table. 

“We’ve faced dangerous stuff in the past, but this is just stupid,” Xander says. “I mean, it can’t do any harm, right?”

“Dunno about that,” Faith comments. “Pretty sure my ears are bleeding. This town has some seriously bad singers.” 

Xander opens his mouth to reply, and then suddenly jumps out of his chair and strikes a dramatic pose. “I’ve got a theory,” he sings, “that it’s a demon. A dancing demon; no, something isn’t right there.” 

His voice is god awful. Faith winces, wondering if Anya has any magic cotton balls lying around. 

She’s not feeling any compulsion to sing, so she tunes the Scoobies out for a minute, closing her eyes to catch up on the sleep that she missed out on. Anya’s singing now, screaming her way through some lines about bunnies - god, that girl needs some kind of therapy - and Faith wants to throw something at her. 

And then Buffy’s singing, and Faith’s paying attention now. 

“What can’t we face if we’re together? What’s in this place that we can’t weather?” she sings, and her friends join in on the chorus. 

Faith still isn’t singing, and she feels a twitch of jealousy, the kind that’s been buried for so long that she thought it was dead forever. The kind that she felt almost constantly when she was seventeen.

Buffy’s friends are still a united front, and she’s still on the outside.

Faith grabs her jacket and slips out the door, the chorus of Buffy’s song still ringing in her ears. 

It’s okay. It’s good. Better that she’s not around Buffy if she’s liable to burst into song, anyway. There’s no telling what kind of sappy shit she might let out.

//

Faith’s smoking a cigarette on the back porch when the door opens and Buffy steps out. Faith blows out a cloud of smoke as Buffy sits down next to her.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Buffy says.

Faith shrugs. “Started in prison. Probably not the healthiest habit, but hey, I’m a Slayer. There’s a lot of things out there that wanna kill me. Figure a couple cigarettes won’t do much harm.”

Buffy wrinkles her nose. “Maybe not, but they smell awful.”

“You don’t have a problem when Spike smokes them, do ya?”

“Well, no,” Buffy admits.

Faith’s skin prickles with irritation. She doesn’t know what exactly is going on with Buffy and that dumb peroxide dipped bloodsucker, but she doesn’t like it. 

Before she can stop herself, she’s asking about it, like an idiot.

“Are you and Spike, like…” She waves her cigarette in the air vaguely, not willing to finish the sentence and not entirely sure she wants to hear Buffy finish it, either.

“No,” Buffy says. “We’re not anything. He just thinks he’s in love with me.”

Faith holds back a laugh.  _ He’s not the only one. _

“I don’t know,” Buffy continues. “I never thought about it before. I mean, I always saw him as beneath me. But now that I’m literally back from the dead, well...maybe I’m not any better than him.”

“You are,” Faith says instantly. “Don’t kid yourself, B. The guy’s a monster and a murderer. You just...happened to die for a little bit.”

Buffy laughs at that, actually laughs, and Faith’s heart flutters at the sound.

The door bangs open again and Willow’s standing there, waving at them urgently. “Buffy, Faith, we need you. Something’s happened.” 

//

Spike is standing in the front hall, half-carrying a demon who’s tied up from hand to foot. His face is grim, and Faith is suddenly worried. 

Not quite enough to forget how much she wants to lay him out, though.

“What’s happened?” Buffy asks.

Spike shakes the demon in her direction. “This fellow works for the dancing demon. Says he’s got little sis locked up somewhere.” 

Dawn. The demon’s got Dawn. Faith’s jaw tightens. 

Buffy’s face goes dark, and she grabs the front of the demon’s shirt and glares at him. “Where is she?” When the demon doesn’t answer right away, Spike pops his fangs out and growls at him.

“The nightclub. The basement,” the demon says. 

Buffy looks at Faith. “Coming?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

//

The Bronze is closed right now but Buffy leads them down the alley, finds the side door and yanks it open, the lock breaking with an audible snapping of metal. She steps inside and Faith follows her, Spike and Xander and the rest close behind.

There’s a flight of steps that they descend, their footsteps echoing in the quiet stairwell. Faith hears laughter coming from below them, and some kind of music. Jazz, she thinks.

The stairs end and they’re standing in a large room with a stage at one end, like an underground mirror of the one above in the Bronze. There’s a large demon standing next to it, dressed in a blue suit, his skin bright red. Dawn’s there too, wearing - Faith squints. Is that a wedding dress?

Buffy steps forward. “Dawn.” 

The demon looks up, smiling widely at the sight of them. Buffy takes another step, and then suddenly she’s dancing, her limbs moving like she’s a puppet on a string. She starts singing again, and the others stand frozen, listening. 

Faith watches as Buffy dances faster and faster, feeling a sick sense of anger pushing its way up through her veins. Buffy’s singing louder now, the lyrics dark and frustrated. No more faking optimism for the sake of her friends. 

As she keeps singing, Faith realizes what’s about to happen.

“There was no pain, there was no doubt,” Buffy sings. “Until they pulled me out of heaven.”

Faith wants to jam her fingers into her ears. She doesn’t want to listen to this anymore. It hurts enough knowing that Buffy was torn from heaven; it’s unbearable hearing the truth spill from her mouth in a twisted song being sung to appease a depraved demon in a cheap suit.

Spike steps forward now, singing something back to Buffy, putting his hands on her shoulders and holding her still, and Faith thinks she might throw up.

She wants to do something, wants to push him away, but that’s not her place, so she slips out the back door. The last thing she hears is Dawn’s voice.

“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.”

Faith finds her way outside and slumps against the brick wall, waiting. She feels numb for reasons that she’s not quite sure of, sickened to the core. She stares blankly at the trash scattered across the ground, flowing over from the mouth of a nearby waste basket. 

She promises herself that the next chance she gets, she’ll dust Spike. 

And she wonders why it wasn’t her. Why she wasn’t the one to comfort Buffy. Why she still hasn’t had a single song. 

The back door swings open and Spike walks out. Faith’s fingers twitch for a stake, only to realize that she doesn’t have one with her. She’s about to go over to him, talk to him or maybe punch him, when the door opens again.

Buffy runs out, clearly following Spike, and Faith wants to punch the wall. If she felt sick before, it’s nothing compared to now. 

Spike starts singing. Faith strains to catch the lyrics. They’re too hard to hear, but it’s suddenly rendered unimportant, because he’s not singing anymore. He’s leaning in to kiss Buffy.

“Stop!” Faith yells, springing forward out of the shadows. Buffy jumps back from Spike, staring at her. Spike just laughs. 

“Go on, then,” he sneers at Faith. “Say whatever rubbish you’re clearly dying to spit out. Tell me I’m a murderer. Tell Buffy she can do better. Tell her how you really feel...” 

Faith looks at Buffy, knows that every emotion she’s feeling right now is probably written all the way across her face, and then she feels it. A pushing in her chest, an undeniable urge to let something out.

A song.

“Fuck,” Faith mutters. 

And then she’s stepping towards Buffy, hand outstretched, and there’s a song fighting its way out of her lungs. 

“Can the killer in me tame the fire in you?” she sings. “I know there’s something waiting for us.” 

Spike scoffs again, but it’s less certain. Buffy just stands there, her face unreadable.

“I am sick of the chase,” Faith continues, “but I’m stupid in love. And there’s nothing I can do...and there’s nothing I can do.”

Spike shakes his head and starts walking away. 

“God, I hate singing,” Faith mumbles to herself, frowning. She doesn’t dare look at Buffy. Three years of keeping this pushed down inside of her like every other uncomfortable truth that she’s ever owned, only to have it ripped out of her by a demonic singing curse. 

Buffy steps forward and reaches for Faith’s face, tips it up so that Faith is forced to look at her. They’re less than two inches apart, and Faith feels like she can barely breathe. Every last secret she’s kept from Buffy, every last bit of safety that remains, is hovering in the air between them.

Buffy leans forward and kisses her, hard and insistent, and the fragile line that the two of them have walked since the day they met is irreversibly crossed.

Faith feels like she’s burning. Like Buffy’s punched fire straight into her chest. She wonders if they’ll both burn up in the flames.

Faith knows this is probably a bad idea. There’s no way it’ll end well; nothing she’s ever done with Buffy Summers has ever ended well, for either of them. Still, she’s wanted this for too long to even try to make it stop, so instead she closes her eyes and lets herself kiss back.

Buffy stumbles and Faith pushes her gently back against the wall to steady them, and they’re kissing in the back alley of the Bronze, right where they first met each other.

Full circle.

Faith knows that it’s too good to last, like every other good thing she’s ever had in her life. Nothing gold can stay, and all that. It’s only a matter of time before this comes to an end.

But she’s thought about this every day since she was seventeen, and for this one moment Buffy is hers, so Faith presses her up against the wall and kisses her hard enough to make up for every time that she didn’t before.

Buffy pulls back for a moment, her eyes bright, and Faith’s heart feels like it’s dropping out of her chest.

“I think I am,” Buffy says quietly. “Right now.” 

“You’re what?” Faith asks, her head still spinning, her hands aching to pull Buffy in again. 

“Alive.”

//

They don’t talk about it. 

It’s been two days since the kiss, and Buffy hasn’t brought it up once. Faith gets the message; it never happened. Loud and clear. 

Except it  _ did _ happen, and Faith can’t forget about it. She thinks about it every second of the day, and during the night too. She thinks about it when she lies on her bed in the basement, slips her hand in between her legs and thinks and thinks and thinks until the heat explodes and burns through her. 

Buffy acts like nothing ever happened between them. Faith shivers every time they brush by each other in the hall, remembering what Buffy’s skin felt like against her own.

Faith rolls around in her bed on the second night after, feeling too big for her own bones, like she’s about to break out of her own skeleton. She presses her hand to her rib cage, feels the fluttering of her heart. 

She doesn’t know what to do. 

She used to think that if she could have Buffy, just once, she’d get over it. Over the feelings that she could never quite write off as just a crush, even to herself. Seventeen year old Faith thought that the best way to get rid of feelings was to kiss them away and then forget them in the morning, dropping them like a bad habit.

Twenty year old Faith isn’t lying to herself. She knows the truth; she’s never getting over Buffy. Because she’s had Buffy now, and all she can think about is how she needs her again.

And how it may never happen.

Faith kicks off the sheets and goes up the basement stairs silently, making her way into the darkened kitchen. She sticks her head into the sink, drinking directly from the faucet, and then splashes some water on her face, trying to wash her thoughts away.

“There’s glasses, you know.”

Faith jumps, banging her head on the side of the sink, and whirls around. Dawn’s sitting at the counter, a half-full tub of ice cream in front of her, a spoon in her hand.

“Pot calling kettle, pipsqueak,” Faith says, her heart rate starting to return to normal. “Do you always eat ice cream straight out the carton?”

Dawn just shrugs, sticks another spoonful into her mouth while eyeing Faith in a calculating way. 

“What are you doing up?” Faith asks. “Shouldn’t you be off in bed dreaming of ponies or sugar plums or some bullshit?”

“I’m sixteen, not six,” Dawn says coldly. 

Faith holds her hands up in surrender. She doesn’t feel like fighting with both Summers women at once. (Not that she and Buffy are fighting; they’re not doing much of anything, really. It’s just different. Tense. Even more so than usual.) “Point taken, short stack.”

Dawn, to Faith’s surprise, pulls out the chair next to her and pats it. Faith slowly crosses the kitchen and sits down, turning the chair sideways and straddling it. 

Dawn tips her head to the side, still watching Faith. “What’s it like in prison?” she asks, after a moment. 

“Shit, what do you wanna know for?” Faith says. “Not like you’ll ever end up in there. Least, I hope not.”

“So what’s it like?”

“Crowded. Boring. Full of crazies.” Faith stretches. “The food is shit.” 

Dawn thinks this over for a minute, then nods like she’s satisfied with that answer. Faith is glad that she didn’t want more details; there’s only so many memories of scratchy jumpsuits and stone walls and batshit inmates that she wants to relive. As in, none. 

“Alright,” she says. “Well, if that’s it, I think I’m gonna go to bed.” She starts to get up, but Dawn’s next question stops her cold.

“Do you hate my sister?”

Faith chokes on the laugh that’s bubbling up in her throat.  _ No, _ she wants to say _. Maybe. Yes. Sometimes.  _

_ No. Never.  _

_ Exactly the goddamn opposite, actually. _

“No,” she says. “Why?”

Dawn shrugs. “Sometimes when you look at her,” she says, “I can’t tell if you want to kill her, or…”

“Or what?” Faith says, the words tumbling out too quickly, too defensively. Dawn doesn’t answer, just stabs her spoon into the ice cream container again, and after a moment, it’s clear that the conversation is over.

Faith goes down to the basement again, thinking about the alley behind the Bronze until her mind relaxes into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lyrics from faith's song are from killer + the sound by phoebe bridgers and noah gundersen. it's not a song that would fit well with the other songs from once more with feeling (it's the complete opposite of a musical number) but the lyrics are perfect for faith and buffy so i used it anyway


	3. Chapter 3

“I think I need to get a job,” Buffy says one morning, flipping through yet another stack of bills. 

“You have a job,” Faith reminds her. “You’re the Slayer. We both are. That’s our job.”

Buffy rips open another envelope. “It doesn’t pay, though.”

“Well, maybe we could start charging. Save someone’s life? A hundred dollars. Kill off a demon? A hundred fifty. We could send the town a bill for all the vamps we dust. That’s gotta be some kinda public service job, right?”

Buffy freezes her with a cold stare. “We can’t charge for saving people’s lives, Faith.”

“The emergency services do,” Faith mutters. 

“Doublemeat Palace is hiring,” Buffy says thoughtfully. “Maybe I can work there.”

Faith grimaces. She’s seen the Doublemeat Palace, even been inside a couple of times. It’s a typical fast food restaurant, greasy and dirty, all plastic trays and corny uniforms and inane drawings of kiddie meals with toys included. She can’t see Buffy being there even to buy food; thinking about her behind the counter, wearing one of those god awful striped shirts, makes Faith want to hurl.

“Not the Doublemeat, B,” she says. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

“Can I, though?” Buffy questions. 

Faith just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, you’re right,” Buffy admits. “But I still need money, and I don’t know of any other places that are hiring.”

“So  _ I’ll _ apply there,” Faith says, the words coming out of her mouth before she even consciously thinks about it. “You just sit here and look pretty.”

Buffy frowns at her. “Faith, are you sure?”

She’s not sure. Not sure why she offered, not sure why she even thought about it. Faith has been a lot of things in her lifetime, but an altruist is not one of them.

Then she looks at Buffy and she remembers why.

“Sure, I’m sure,” she says, her voice about fifteen times more cheerful than she really feels. “Ya think the Doublemeat has a problem with hiring ex-cons?”

//

She gets the job. 

The manager at the Doublemeat Palace, a man named Manny who looks like he’s been working there for the last hundred and fifty years, doesn’t even bother to interview her. Doesn’t show a flicker of recognition when he sees her face. He just hands her a uniform and a hat, and shows her how to clock in.

Faith learns the ropes quickly. She learns how to usw the fryers and make the burgers and work the register. 

What’s really annoying is the customers. If Faith hadn’t been sure that she never wanted kids before this, she’s really sure now. Every time a kid throws a tantrum because his DoubleMeal toy wasn’t the one he wanted, an angel probably loses its wings.

But all in all, it’s a fairly easy job. Flipping patties and serving french fries isn’t any harder than anything that she had to do while she was in prison.

Faith kind of hates it.

Sometimes when she’s piling beef and chicken patties onto a bun to make yet another Doublemeat Medley, she wonders what the hell she’s even doing, working a minimum wage job so that Buffy won’t have to, even though Buffy didn’t ask her and probably doesn’t care and still hasn’t brought up the kiss once. 

Then again, she’s always been one to act the fool for Buffy.

So Faith keeps her head down at work, assembles about a million Doublemeat Medleys, and resists the urge to throw supersized soda cups at the dumbshit kids who order from her. She nearly wears out her time card and learns to ignore the blank stares of her co-workers.

She gets four demerits in the first week for refusing to wear the hat while she’s on duty.

Worth it, she figures. There’s no way she’s going to wear a baseball cap topped with the front half of a stuffed cow. She’s still got some dignity. 

Her paychecks start stacking up, and she turns over most of the money to Buffy. She uses the rest of it to buy herself some more cigarettes.

//

Faith comes home from work one day to find Buffy sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling away at a paper in front of her.

“Here,” Faith says, tossing her latest paycheck onto the table. “Buy yourself somethin’ pretty.” 

She’s being sarcastic, of course. She knows that the money’s going to be used to fix the plumbing or re-tile the roof or buy groceries so that they don’t all starve. Still, she wants to keep it light, and pushing Buffy a little has always been the easiest way to get a rise out of her.

It doesn’t work this time, though. Buffy just nods to her, mumbles a quiet thank you, and keeps writing. 

“Whatcha doing?” Faith asks, craning her neck to read over Buffy’s shoulder. She catches sight of the crest on the top of the paper. Wheat grains and a sun and a UC Sunnydale logo.

Buffy looks a little embarrassed. “I’m just looking into applying to college again. Still not sure I’m going to do it. I mean, I don’t know how I’d even go back, after everything that happened.” 

Faith pats her on the shoulder, feels Buffy tense up a little under her hand. It’s the first time that they’ve touched since the kiss. “Nah, go ahead and re apply. May as well give it a try, right? I believe in trying everything at least once. Although that usually applies to stuff in the bedroom, not life in general…”

Buffy’s cheeks turn pink, and Faith smirks. “Just send in your application, B. I’m gonna go ditch the clown outfit.” She pulls her orange and white striped Doublemeat Palace shirt over her head, leaving her in just a black lace bra.

Buffy looks up and her face goes from slightly red to bright scarlet. “Faith!”

“What?” Faith asks noncommittally, noticing the way that Buffy licks her bottom lip almost subconsciously.

“I thought you were going to go downstairs to change, not strip in the middle of the living room like a weirdo.”

Faith shrugs, folding her shirt into messy quarters. “Don’t see you complainin’ about it too much, though.” 

Buffy looks completely lost for words, and just at that moment, the doorbell rings. She jumps up from the table to answer it, looking deeply relieved. 

Faith follows her into the front hall. “Who is it?” she says. “Is it Anya, cause I’ve got a couple therapists to recommend to that girl…” Her voice trails off as she sees who’s standing on the doorstep. It’s a middle-aged woman with short hair and professional-looking clothing, a clipboard clutched under one arm. Definitely not one of their friends.

“Hello,” she says formally. “I am Doris Keller.”

“Miss Keller,” Buffy says, her voice high pitched and nervous. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were coming today. I mean, I thought we scheduled your visit for Wednesday.”

The lady frowns at her. “Miss Summers, it  _ is _ Wednesday.” 

“Oh,” Buffy says, swinging the door open wider. “Well, come in, then.” 

As the lady steps inside, Buffy shoots Faith a look behind her back and mouths “Social worker.” Faith suddenly knows what’s going on; the lady is here to see if Dawn needs to be taken away.

Faith’s entire body goes rigid. She’s had bad experiences with social workers and child services officers.  _ Bad _ experiences. She remembers homeless shelters and carpeted offices, being shoved in the back of a car and taken away to another community home, being asked if her mother was home and not knowing how to explain that yes, she was, but only in the sense that she was wine drunk and passed out on the sofa.

Faith’s hands curl into fists without even thinking about it, and she’s half tempted to run down into the basement and hide, or at least beat on the punching bag for a while, but she can’t. She won’t abandon Buffy like that.

The social worker is looking around at the living room now, which hasn’t been cleaned in about a week. Willow’s been organizing her magic supplies, and there’s herbs and crystals and all kinds of witchy magic stuff lying around. She plucks a bag of some kind of dried green plant out of the mess, holding it up to the light and examining it closely, clearly scandalized.

“No, no, that’s not what it looks like,” Buffy says, rushing forward. “I can explain. It’s magic weed.” 

Faith slaps a hand against her forehead. The social worker’s eyebrows rise so high that they’ll probably be in orbit soon.

“What she means,” Faith says, trying to rescue the situation, “is that the stuff in that bag is not weed. It’s for one of the pipsqueak’s - Dawn's - science experiments. For school.” 

The social worker turns to look at her, and it’s only then that Faith remembers she’s not wearing a shirt right now. 

“Do you live here?” the woman asks in an accusing tone.

Faith nods. “Yeah. Well, I haven’t always. I moved in a couple months ago.” 

“So you two…” The woman moves her finger back and forth in between Faith and Buffy, obviously unwilling to voice whatever thoughts she’s thinking, but they get the message anyway.

“No,” Buffy says quickly. “We’re not together in any way, shape, or form. Not at all.”

Faith feels a small pang of disappointment at Buffy’s words, but she hides it well. No use bringing up her grievances in the middle of a social worker visit. 

“Are you two the only ones who live here with Dawn?” the social worker asks, in a way that makes it clear she’s not buying the whole  _ Faith and Buffy aren’t dating _ thing.

“No, Willow and Tara live here too,” Buffy says. “I assure you, though, we’re all one big happy family here.”

“Family,” the woman muses, looking skeptically between Faith and Buffy. “Interesting. Very...interesting.” 

Buffy fidgets with the hem of her shirt nervously. Faith reaches over and gently moves Buffy’s hands away from the cloth before the stitches start popping - Buffy doesn’t really know her own strength sometimes, neither of them do - but it’s the wrong move, because the social worker’s gaze follows Faith’s movement disapprovingly. She starts writing on her clipboard.

“Well, I think I’ve seen everything I need to see here,” she sniffs. “I shall be back here for a secondary report within a week’s time. And I must warn you, Miss Summers, I don’t see it as very likely that you will be approved to continue taking care of your sister.” She nods stiffly and sweeps out the door, closing it loudly behind her.

Faith lets out a long exhale. “Well, that blows,” she says. “But hey, it’s not over yet. We just really gotta sell it to her next time she’s here.”

Buffy lets her head fall forward into her hands. “That was a mess. And did you hear what she said? She wants to take Dawn.”

“Ain’t gonna happen, B,” Faith says firmly. “I’ll kill the lady if I have to.”

For a minute she thinks that Buffy’s going to call her on the murder jokes, but then she laughs. Only for about half a second, but Faith counts it as a win anyways. “I’ll keep that offer in mind,” Buffy says. “Now go put some clothes on.”

//

The magic shop gets robbed a couple days later. 

Faith and Buffy go to check it out right after Anya calls them, her voice high and hysterical, sounding panicked. Even more than it does when she’s talking about bunnies, Faith notes. 

When they get there, though, Faith almost understands why Anya sounded so freaked out. 

The front window of the Magic Box is completely shattered, jagged spikes of glass poking up from the edges of the splintery wooden frame. Inside, the tables are overturned and the shelves are sagging. The floor is covered with scraps of wood, shards of glass, spilled herbs, dried incense, metal jewelry. 

Faith crouches down to examine the pieces of glass, running her fingers through them carefully. She chooses one and holds it up to the light, looking through it.

Anya is pacing around behind the damaged sales counter, wringing her hands. “What am I supposed to do with this? I’ll have to close the shop for at least a week to do repairs, and I’ll be losing so much money…”

Buffy pokes at the remains of a jewelry collection, dangling a silver chain from her fingers. Faith watches her out of the corner of her eye, thinking that since the place has been robbed already, she might as well keep the necklace. It would be a good look on her. 

Anya is still going strong with her list of complaints. “I just restocked those crystal balls, and the dried sage took forever to ship in, and now how am I supposed to sell the amulets of protection? There’s this guy who likes to buy one every week, because I lied to him and said that they lose efficiency after seven days, but he won’t buy them if the talismans are smashed…”

Faith moves to look at the cracked window frame, noticing a small trace of black sludge along the edge. She swipes a bit of it onto her finger, wincing as it burns at her skin.

“...And there’s not enough money here, not with all the wedding planners that I have to pay,” Anya says sadly, digging through the cash register and coming up with a handful of bills. “Capitalism isn’t fun anymore when you’re on the wrong side of it.” 

Faith shakes her finger, trying to lessen the burning feeling. “Yo, can it with the shop talk for a moment, will ya?”

Anya looks affronted, but shuts her mouth for once. 

“B, come over here,” Faith says, waving her finger in the air. “Look at this.”

Buffy walks over to her, squinting at Faith’s hand. “What’s that stuff on your fingers?”

Faith ignores the jokes that spring to mind, and points to the edge of the window. “Some kind of demon slime, I think. Must be leftover from whatever broke in.”

“We should probably take some of it home. Will can do her scientist thing and analyze it, find out what kind of demon it’s from.” Buffy looks around for something to put a drop of the liquid in.

“Hello?” Anya calls impatiently. “Are you guys coming up with a plan to repair my store and get my money back, or no?” 

“No,” Faith says, striding over to her. “But can I borrow that?” She snatches a piece of paper out of Anya’s hand and uses it to wipe off some of the slime from the window, then hands it to Buffy. “Here ya go, B.” 

Buffy takes it, pinching the paper between the tips of her fingers. “Thanks. Just what I always wanted.”

“Hey, curly,” Faith says to Anya. “What exactly is missing here? What got stolen?”

“Well, it’ll be hard to tell,” Anya huffs, “seeing as you just used my inventory sheet to wipe up demon shit. But I think all of the black obsidian crystals are gone.” 

Faith hums in thought. “Good to know. We’ll pass the message on to Red.”

“You’re not going to help me clean up here?” Anya asks, her tone irritated. 

Faith looks at her like she’s crazy. “No, we’re not.”

They walk out of the shop with the sample of demon slime, leaving Anya staring sadly into her cash register. 

//

Willow tells them it will take a couple days for her to run tests on the slime, and she heads off to the lab to start. Faith thinks she looks disproportionately happy, considering that she’s about to stick a lump of demon juice under a microscope and stare at it. Just nerd stuff, Faith guesses.

As soon as Willow’s gone, Dawn comes home from school, talking a mile a minute about her homework and her classes and a cute boy in her class. Her energy is exhausting. Makes Faith want to take a nap just listening to her.

“Will you help me find an outfit for tomorrow?” Dawn asks Buffy, bouncing around like a kangaroo on crack. “I want to look really good for him.” 

Faith snorts. No man is worth dressing up for, in her opinion. Lowering their standards for men must be a Summers family trait.

Then again, her own standards have fallen pretty hard in the past - Xander was an all-time low - so who is she to judge.

“Sure, Dawn.” Buffy says, and only Faith hears the note of tired hesitation in her voice. She goes downstairs to the basement instead of asking Buffy to patrol like she’d wanted to.

//

Willow calls a group meeting the next day to discuss what happened at the magic shop. Faith wholeheartedly doesn’t want to participate - she has absolutely zero desire to hear another monologue from Anya about all the money that’s being lost - but she isn’t about to ditch Buffy. So she lies down on the couch, taking up at least half the space, and watches as the others settle into the chairs.

“So, what do we know?” Buffy asks, shoving Faith’s feet aside and sitting down at the other end of the couch. 

Willow unfolds a piece of paper and checks her notes. “Well, the tests still aren’t back from the lab, but I’m almost positive that the demon who attacked the shop isn’t the same kind that made the blood pentacle.”

Right. Faith had almost forgotten about that whole blood-filled crater in the ground.

“You said that black obsidian crystals were stolen, right?” Willow asks Anya, who’s sitting on the floor. 

“Yes,” Anya confirms. “I don’t have a chair. Will you switch with me so that I have a chair and you have to sit on the floor?”

Willow frowns at her. “No. Now if I may continue…black obsidian crystals are usually used in very powerful spells. I - I’ve never even tried doing magic with any of them.”

Tara nods seriously. “They can be a very powerful catalyst. Dangerous. They’re often used in spells that push the boundaries of magic.” 

Faith studies her fingernails, already bored with this conversation. “If these things are so dangerous, why were ya selling them for thirty bucks a pop?”

Anya scowls. “Well, I have to make money somehow.” 

Willow’s looking at Tara with a hurt expression. “You think that there’s boundaries to magic?”

“Well - well yeah,” Tara says. “There are a lot of spells that just shouldn’t be done. Too much magic can be - can be a bad thing.  _ Is _ a bad thing.”

“None of this is helping me fix my store,” Anya says testily. “Why aren’t you offering to fix it up for me so that I can go back to selling things and making money?”   


Xander wraps an arm around her, and Faith tries not to gag at the sight. “Life isn’t all about money, baby,” he says to her.

Anya frowns and throws his arm off. “So you don’t support my livelihood?”

Tara and Willow are arguing now, their words quiet but unmistakably conflicting. Anya is glaring at Xander, loudly telling him that he needs to be more supportive of her if he’s going to be her husband. Dawn is nervously glancing between Willow and Tara, probably hoping that they kiss and make up. It’s all giving Faith a damn headache. 

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared loudly, and Faith frowns. Something about it sounds strangely familiar. She looks up and blinks, wondering if she’s seeing things.

Giles is standing there by the door, polishing his glasses. 

“Hello, all,” he says tentatively. “I did knock, but you all seemed rather preoccupied.”

There’s a moment of silence and then Buffy jumps up off the couch, flying over to Giles and wrapping him in a tight hug. Giles hugs back, his glasses forgotten and falling to the floor. Seeing them together, so unmistakably affectionate, Faith feels that old jealousy rising up inside of her again. 

It still hurts to see the bond between Buffy and Giles, just like it did when she was seventeen. They’re like father and daughter, and Faith feels the familiar twist of longing in her gut, because god. She’s never had anyone like that. She probably never will.

She looks away for a moment, blinking quickly, until Buffy and Giles step back from each other.

“Giles!” Dawn and Willow exclaim, running to hug him too. Faith scoffs; it’s turning into a goddamn hugfest. She doesn’t want any part of it.

Not at all. Not one bit.

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to return,” Giles says, bending to pick up his glasses again. “I was away on a Watchers’ retreat, and there was virtually no contact with the outside world. When I finally got word that Buffy was back, well...I didn’t quite believe it.”   


Buffy forces a laugh. “Well, here I am.”

“I came as soon as I could,” Giles assures her. He pauses for a moment, looking at Buffy like a parent, so proud and caring and loving, it makes Faith’s stomach hurt. She can’t take this anymore. 

She drifts away from the love club, grabbing her stake and heading out the back door.

//

Faith dusts two vamps in the first cemetery she comes to, and finds a third lazing around outside one of the crypts. She tucks her stake away and hits him, itching for a real fight.

“Aw, come on man,” the vamp whines as she slams him against the crypt wall. “I’m just trying to relax here.” 

“Me too,” Faith answers, kicking him into a tombstone and hearing a satisfying crack. “That’s why I’m here beating the shit out of you.”

The vamp rolls to his feet, popping his fangs out. “Dude, you have one warped sense of life if beating up innocent bystanders is your idea of relaxing. You need to rethink this. How about a drink, maybe a beach day, or a visit to the spa?”

“Oh, shut up,” Faith snaps, staking him. He dissolves into a yellow cloud of dust, and she swats her hand through it irritably.

Even after fighting three vamps, she’s still not happy, her mood failing to be improved by a good dose of violence for the first time in what seems like ages. She sighs to herself and heads home again. 

She doesn’t know how to feel about Giles being back. She’d thought she was over the daddy issues thing, but seeing him with Buffy just brought back all that shitty longing for a father figure, one of the very reasons that Faith went evil in the first place.

_ Whatever, _ she thinks. It’s not like she’s gonna go psycho again. She’s got a handle on it. 

But seeing Buffy and Giles is still going to suck.

She heads for the Doublemeat Palace instead of home. She might get demerits for not showing up in uniform, but fuck it. At least someone needs her, even if it’s a giant fast food corporation. 

//

The demon slime turns out to be from some kind of Void demon, and Faith manages to track it down and kill it within a day. She leaves Buffy behind at the magic shop, talking with Giles, and even though the demon is an easy kill, Faith still misses having her along.

Killing the demon doesn’t turn up any leads on the stolen crystals, but Faith doesn’t worry too much about it. They’ll figure something out. Willow will, anyway.

//

Sure enough, Willow does a locator spell for the obsidian crystals a couple days later. Their signal pops up at the crater across town.

“The same one that has a blood pentacle in it?” Faith asks. It’s probably too much to hope that it’s a different one, but she may as well try.

“The one and the same,” Willow confirms. Faith and Buffy sigh, and trek over to check it out again. 

“I’m getting really sick of being here,” Faith comments as they make their way through the abandoned construction site for the third time. “Next time we gotta come over to Craterville, Xander should pay us. Seein’ as it’s his site and all.”

There’s a crackling sound coming from up ahead, and Faith knows that can’t mean anything good, but she decides to pretend that she doesn’t hear it. Maybe it’ll get bored with itself and disappear.

“Do you hear that?” Buffy asks. Score: Zero for Faith’s manifestation skills.

“Yeah, I do,” she admits. “What do you think it’s from?”

Buffy lifts a hand and points ahead of them. “Probably from that.”

Faith looks where she’s pointing, and silently curses. 

Ahead of them, the crater is bigger than ever, and there’s some sort of dome of black, crackling energy wrapping around the bottom of it, like an evil cloud of balled lightning. Faith squints, focusing her gaze, and can pick out large chunks of shiny black stone dug halfway into the dirt at the base of the energy cloud.

“I’m no expert, but those look like obgynian stones to me,” she says. 

Buffy lets out a laugh, and it’s so unfitting for the situation that Faith shoots her a look of confusion. 

“ _ Obsidian _ stones, Faith,” she says. “The word is obsidian.”

“Whatever,” Faith grumbles. “They’re bad news either way.”

“On  _ that _ we can agree.” Buffy shades her eyes with her hand, peering into the crater. “I’m thinking that we shouldn’t go down into the crater. There’s probably some kind of demon in there, or something.”

As the words leave her mouth, the crackling sound gets louder. There’s a noise like a cork popping out of a bottle, and a minute later, something comes flying out of the top of the energy cloud, which dissolves. It lands on the edge of the crater, and as it raises its head, Faith sees that it’s a demon that looks like a cartoon devil. Red skin, horns, forked tail, the whole gig. It raises its head and growls at them.

Faith glances at Buffy. “Speak of the devil.”

“That pun was worse than the actual demon,” Buffy mutters. “Let’s go.” 

The demon jumps at them, slashing at Faith with talons the length of. Faith ducks and grabs the tail, using it to swing the demon around like a lasso before she finally lets go. The demon sails across the site, landing with a thud against the empty construction trailer. 

“Pretty nice toss,” Buffy observes. Faith grins. They approach the demon, which is getting to its feet.

“Thissss is not over,” it hisses. “My master is coming, and you will pay in blood for what you’ve done.” Before either of them can react, it jumps into the air and takes off, red wings unfurling from its back and flapping as it rises higher and higher before disappearing over the treetops. 

“Man, what the hell,” Faith says. “The bad guys got wings now?”

Buffy bites her lip, looking thoughtful. “That’s the second demon now who’s mentioned having a master. There must be something bigger behind this all.”

“Isn’t there always,” Faith sighs. “Well, we’d better head back to the house before Satan Jr shows up to torch it.” 

//

The devil’s not at the house when they get back, so Faith stops worrying about it. For now, at least.

She’s in the basement about an hour later, going at it with the punching bag, when the door opens and Buffy walks down the stairs. Faith is so surprised that she lets the bag swing back and hit her in the chest. Buffy’s never come down to see her before. 

“What’s up, B?” she says. “Come to slum it with us basement dwellers?”

Buffy sits down, uninvited, on the edge of her bed. “Giles doesn’t know what the crater is,” she says. “Said he’ll look into it.”

“You told him about the flying devil?”

“Yep. He has no ideas yet.”

“Yeah, well. He’ll find one, right? He’s got enough books to build a library with; no way he doesn’t come up with a solution.” Faith hits the bag again. 

Buffy looks around the basement. “I guess.” Her voice sounds so downcast that Faith stops punching the bag and looks over at her. 

“Hey, B. Why do ya sound so bummed?” 

“I just thought…” Buffy slumps back against the wall. “I thought that having Giles here would help, you know? I thought that having him back would suddenly fix everything somehow. He’s always been able to help, and he’s always been able to come up with an answer for every problem. But now he’s back, and we still don’t know anything about the crater or the devil or any of it, and I still feel completely lost.”

Faith sits down next to her, starts unwrapping the tape from around her hands. “You’re gonna get better, B. And when you do, it won’t be because of Giles or anyone else. That’s all on you.”

Buffy leans her head back, hitting it gently against the wall. “Did you ever hear the saying that the definition of insanity is repeating the same experiment over and over and expecting a different result? You must have learned that in basic science.”

The corner of Faith’s mouth twitches upwards in amusement. “Learned it in murder rehab, actually. But yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“Yeah. Well, it feels like living is the experiment, and the result is hopeless. Like, here I am, living again, and what, expecting a different outcome?”

“We all die,” Faith reminds her.

“I know,” Buffy says. “That’s not what I’m talking about. Not really. I’m talking about fighting the same fight every day, until there’s nothing left.”

Faith wants to reach for Buffy, but she wraps the tape around her hands instead. She doesn’t trust herself to touch Buffy right now. Doesn’t trust Buffy not to run away if she does. “It’s not the same experiment, B. Ya got different - what do ya call them - variables now.”

“Are you one of them?” 

“Yeah,” Faith says. “I guess so.” She winds the tape around her hand again, tighter this time.

Buffy pauses for a moment, then asks, “Why did you come back?”

And shit. Faith doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not today, not ever. But fuck it, what does it matter anymore? She already basically confessed that she was in love with Buffy three days ago with that damn song, and Buffy didn’t seem to give a shit about it. 

“Willow said you needed me,” Faith says. “Didn’t give it a lot of thought. Do you - ” She hesitates, not sure if she wants to hear the answer to this question. “Am I getting that you want me to be...not here?”   


“No,” Buffy says, her voice quiet and uncertain. “That’s not what I meant. I’m...glad that you’re here.”

Faith wants to believe her, wants it so bad that she can physically feel it in her chest.

“So are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks, the words spilling out of her mouth before she can hold them back.

Buffy jerks her head up. “Talk about what?”

Faith pulls at the end of the tape. Her hand is starting to go numb. “You  _ know _ what. You kissed me, B.”

Buffy shakes her head, and Faith can practically see all her walls going back up. “Can we not have this conversation right now? I really can’t talk about this.”

Faith rips the tape off her hand and tosses it to the ground. “The hell you can’t. You have to talk about this. You can’t just keep going on like it didn’t happen. I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because - ” Faith inhales a rough breath. 

_ Because you kissed me. Because I kissed you. Because I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were seventeen. Because I told you I loved you. At least, I think I did. _

She’s still trying to put her feelings into words - something she’s never been good at - when Buffy kisses her. 

It’s hard and fast and desperate, and Faith kisses back just as desperately. Buffy’s hands are sliding under her shirt, moving over her skin, and Faith feels teeth scrape against her bottom lip. She thinks she can almost taste blood. Buffy pushes her back into the bed, and Faith feels heat shoot straight between her legs.

Suddenly feeling like this is spinning out of control, Faith flips them over, rolling on top of Buffy. She kisses at Buffy’s neck, and she hears Buffy make a breathy noise in response. Then Buffy’s hands are at the edge of her shirt, tugging, and Faith lets Buffy slide her shirt off.

It falls to the floor, and more clothes fall on top of it, and Faith is kissing Buffy, her lips sliding further and further down her body, and then Buffy’s hand is tangling in her hair.

And then, and then, and  _ then _ .

Being with Buffy is hot and slick and fast, just like Faith has always imagined it, and when it’s over, they’re sweaty and sore, sprawled out on the mattress that was only ever meant for one person. Faith’s mind is spinning with about a thousand different thoughts, and Buffy’s lying right next to her, but she may as well be a million miles away. 

“I should probably go,” Buffy says. She slides out of bed and throws her clothes on. Faith sits up to watch her, noticing that she puts her shirt on inside out. Faith aches to fix it for her.

Buffy walks up the basement stairs without a backwards glance, and Faith, who’s never had anything more than a one night stand, who’s jumped out of windows to avoid being there when the person she slept with on any given night wakes up, wishes more than anything that Buffy was still lying in bed with her.

Sleeping with Buffy is what Faith has wanted for so long that she can barely remember when she started wanting it, but now that it’s happened, all she can do is wonder why she feels so hollow.

//

She figures that this is another one-time thing. They’ll continue life as usual, and it’ll never happen again, and it’ll be another thing that Buffy never talks about. And Faith thinks that she’ll be able to deal with that. Some days, anyways.

It turns out that she’s only half right. Buffy doesn’t ever talk about it, but it does happen again.

And again.

After the third time, Buffy isn’t the only one to leave the basement when they’re done. Faith waits for a few minutes so it doesn’t feel like she’s following Buffy, and then goes upstairs and out the back door, just wanting to sit on the steps and think for a while.

Trouble is, there’s already someone sitting there.

“Hello, there,” Spike says, pulling a cigarette from between his lips. “Care to share a light?”

What the hell, Faith thinks. She’s too tired to fight, so she sits down and takes the cigarette from him, blowing the smoke into his face just to be a bitch.

“Better?” Spike asks.

Faith blows out another cloud of smoke. “Better.”

She leans back, resting her head against the top step, and tries to sort out her thoughts. It’s hard to do at the best of times, and it’s made much harder when she’s sitting next to a vampire with a trashy British accent and a trashier coat and a nicotine addiction even worse than her own.

“I’m in love with the Slayer, you know,” Spike says after a moment’s silence.

Faith clenches her jaw. “I know.”

“I’m in  _ love _ with her,” he repeats, and Faith’s jaw tightens even more.

“I know that,” she snaps. “Why are you telling me this?”

Spike raises one eyebrow. “Cause I’m not the only one, am I?”

Faith’s fists clench so fast, it’s like a reaction. Like blinking. “Watch your mouth, bleach boy. Ya don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Spike sneers. “I can smell her all over you. What I want to know is, when is she going to realize that she’s too good for you?”

That does it. Faith gets to her feet and grabs the front of Spike’s stupid coat, throwing him through the air like a Frisbee. He connects with the solid oak tree across the yard and slides to the ground. 

“I’ve been telling you, Faith,” he says, dropping his head back and looking at her through half-closed eyes. “We’re the same, you and I. The coal around the gold. The moth drawn to the flame. The darkness...”

The darkness drawn to the light. __

The light.

Buffy _.  _

“Sure, she’ll roll around with you for a while,” Spike continues. “But what happens when she gets sick of the dirt? She’s not like us, and you know it. You’re just trash, and sooner or later you’ll be taken out. The only difference between you and me is that I haven’t gotten my hands on her. Yet. But when I do, she’ll be screaming for mercy.”

“Fuck off with that,” Faith says. “You can’t hurt anyone. You’re all chips ahoy, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, for now,” Spike admits. “But it’s different with her. She came back wrong, came back different. I can do anything I want to her. I know it. Can feel it buzzing inside me when I'm around her, like something in me knows it's safe to hurt her.” He grins, a sick, shark-like smile, and that's it.  Faith steps to him in two strides, slams her fist into his face, feels the pain burn in her knuckles with a satisfying sting. 

“Don’t you even come near her,” Faith spits. “You’re right, Spike. She’s not like us. She wouldn’t kill you, no matter how much you deserve it. But I will, and I won’t hesitate to nail you to a cross and watch you burn if you so much as try to lay a hand on her.” She hits him again, and blood starts pouring from his nose.

Faith turns and goes into the house, storming through the kitchen. Tara is standing at the sink, washing dishes. She flinches at the look on Faith’s face.

“What - what’s wrong?” she asks timidly.

“Nothing,” Faith says. Her hand starts stinging again, as if it’s protesting the lie. “Where’s Willow?”

Tara gestures with a soapy spoon. “Upstairs.”

Faith takes the stairs two at a time, knocks on the door of the room that used to be Joyce’s. Willow opens it, looking startled to see Faith standing there.

“Faith,” she says, her tone guarded. “What’s up?”

“Red,” Faith says. “Willow. I need a favor.”

//

They wait until Buffy’s gone out to pick Dawn up from school, and then Faith sits on the steps of the front porch and waits as Willow sprinkles herbs around the yard.

“You sure this is gonna work?” she calls out. 

For an answer, Willow drops the last handful of herbs and mutters something in Latin, then claps her hands. There’s a flash of light and Faith sees a golden wall briefly flicker to life along the edge of the lawn. Then it disappears.

“There,” Willow says. “It’ll work on Spike only.”

“Thanks for doin’ this.” 

“You said Buffy was in danger from him,” Willow reminds her. “That’s why I did it. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Not again.” 

Faith catches the guilty undertone in the witch’s voice, and feels a kind of grim satisfaction. At least now she feels bad about what she did. 

“I get it. Just - thanks.” Faith nods to Willow and then goes inside. Willow follows her in, and, to Faith’s surprise, sits down on the sofa with her. Faith turns on the TV, but keeps it muted.

“What gives, Red?” she asks. “Are we pals now?”

Willow snorts. “No. Well, well, we could be. Some day. Maybe. A very far off day. Right now, I just have a question.”

Faith starts flipping through the silent channels. “Shoot.”

“Have you, um...” Willow clears her throat. “Have you ever done drugs?”

“Oh, right,” Faith grumbles. “Ask the ex-con murderer with an alcoholic junkie mother and a history of living fast and loose if she’s done drugs.” 

Willow just stares at her.

“A couple times,” Faith admits. “But they never really stuck. Probably a good thing, or I’d be even more fucked up than I already am. Why do you ask?”

Willow fidgets around on the couch, and Faith leans forward to look at her a little closer. She doesn’t look like she’s on anything, which is what Faith expected. There’s honestly no way she’d believe that the little redheaded hocus pocus do-gooder was doing drugs unless she witnessed it with her own eyes. And even then she might doubt it.

“Okay, so - so you’ve never done drugs,” Willow says. “Have you ever been addicted to something?”

To  _ someone _ , Faith thinks bitterly. “No, but my ma was a raging alcoholic. I know a thing or two ’bout addiction.” 

Willow nods, her hands twitching a little bit, fiddling nervously. “Okay. Good to know.”

“You’re not gettin’ into drugs or something, are ya?” Faith says. She’s almost laughing as she asks. As if the girl would ever get into anything like that. She probably doesn’t even drink anything stronger than those mocha drinks from the Espresso Pump.

Willow shakes her head. “No - no drugs. Thanks for talking. I’d better go and do my homework. There’s, you know, a lot of work that I have to do at home, of the homework variety.” She collects her laptop and notebooks from the table and goes upstairs.

Faith unmutes the TV, wondering what that was all about. She resolves to keep one eye on Willow, just to see what’s going on there.

//

“That devil demon was spotted near the Bronze,” Buffy says, later that night. “Are you down to go kill it?” 

Faith groans. Between Buffy and, well, Buffy, Faith forgot that the evil crater even existed, let alone the demon that flew out of it. Her entire brain has been devoted to thinking about Buffy and whatever the hell is going on between them. (She’s probably going to get fired if she calls in sick one more time this week.) 

“Sure,” she says. “Lemme grab some weapons.”

They find the devil hanging around on the roof of the Bronze and kill it easily, Faith shooting it down with the crossbow that she found in the back of the weapons chest. She hopes that the thing dissolved, because there’s no way she’s climbing up to the roof to get the body.

“That was fun,” she says, slinging the crossbow over her shoulder. “Wanna patrol some more?”

Buffy shakes her head. “Not really in the mood.”   


“Right,” Faith says, trying to hide her disappointment. She had kind of been hoping to beat up some undead nasties to clear her head.

“I’m in the mood for something else,” Buffy says, letting her gaze trail up and down Faith’s body, and  _ oh _ . Alright, then.

Faith lets her crossbow drop to the ground. Buffy pushes her against the wall of the Bronze and lets her hands slide past the waistband of Faith’s pants, and Faith gives up all hope of clearing her head tonight.

//

Faith is slumped on the couch one night, staring blankly at the sofa, when she hears a roaring noise from outside. A snarling, raging roar. She goes to the door to see what it is, and there’s a man outside on the sidewalk in front of the house, pacing around.

It’s Spike.

“Well hey, handsome,” Faith smirks, leaning back against the doorframe and crossing her arms. “Pretty far out, aren’t you?”

Spike slams his hand against what seems to be thin air at the edge of the lawn. There’s a glow of golden light and his arm bounces off of Willow’s shield spell.

“What’d you do,” he growls. “Let me in.”

Faith puts her hand to her ear, pretending that she didn’t hear him properly. “You wanna repeat that?”

“Let me in, you bitch,” Spike snarls. “I don’t know what you and the witch did, but you can’t just cut me off like this.”

“I mean, I think the way you’re dancing around on the sidewalk right now proves that we can cut you off just fine,” Faith drawls. “Can I take a message for you? I promise I won’t let it get to B.”   
Dawn and Tara come into the hall, drawn by the noise. “What’s happening?” Dawn asks.

Faith gestures towards Spike, now jumping up and down in anger. “We have a visitor.”

Dawn frowns at Spike, probably wondering if he’s gone insane. “What’s wrong with him?”   


“That’s an essay question, pipsqueak.”

Willow appears behind Faith, looking quizzically between her and Tara, then out the open door at Spike. Her expression shifts to one of understanding. “Oh, it worked!”

“Uh, you were expecting it to, right?” Faith says. “Like, you knew what you were doing, right?”

“Well, I was pretty sure. Ninety percent sure. Okay, more like eighty percent.”

“What’s going on here?” Buffy asks, and Faith turns her head so fast she thinks she might have whiplash now. Buffy is walking down the stairs, wearing a soft white sweater and jeans, and Faith wants to wrap her arms around her and not let go.

“Spike has gone insane,” Dawn says helpfully, gesturing towards the slimy bastard in question, who’s still prancing around outside. He looks like a monumental idiot, and Faith takes great pleasure in it.

Buffy steps out onto the porch, and Faith follows her. 

“Spike?” Buffy says. “What are you doing?”

Spike stares at her, his face openly hungry. “Trying to get past whatever spell the bitch and the witch put up to keep me out.” 

“Will?” Buffy asks Willow, sounding bewildered. “You and Faith did something? Without telling me?”

“Well, well,” Willow stammers. “We didn’t exactly - I mean, we did, but, but - ” 

“Hey, ease off,” Faith says. “I was the one who asked her to do it.”

Buffy turns on her then, shoving her back against the porch railing. “What the fuck did you do, Faith?”

“I had Red put up a spell to keep that asshole out,” Faith snaps, nodding towards Spike. “He threatened you, Buffy. He’s dangerous.” She slaps Buffy’s hands away from her. “Excuse me for tryin’ to do something good.” 

“He’s got the chip,” Buffy says. “He can’t hurt anyone.”   


“He can hurt you,” Faith argues. “He told me, he said you came back different. Chip won’t keep him from attacking you, and I won’t let that happen.” 

Buffy still looks angry, and it’s making Faith mad, because why the hell is she so torn up over this? Faith did the right thing. She knows it.

“You shouldn’t have shut him out without telling me,” Buffy says insistently.

Faith laughs, harsh and quick. “Why not, B? What do you need him around for? Am I not enough for ya? Are you gonna string him along too and then act like nothing is happening cause you’re too scared or too selfish to talk about it?” She’s saying too much and she knows it, but her frustration boils over, threatening to choke her if she doesn’t let the words out.

Buffy moves faster than the blink of an eye, slamming a fist into Faith’s face and sending her falling back against the railing. Faith grins through the pain and wipes a trickle of blood from her mouth, staring up at Buffy. “There’s my girl.”

“I’m not - ” Buffy breathes out. “I’m not - that’s not what’s happening.”

“Yeah?” Faith says. “Cause it sure seems that way to me.” She gets to her feet slowly. “You let me know when you wanna talk, and I’ll be here.”

Dawn and Tara and Willow stare in silence as Faith pushes through them and makes her way back into the house. The last thing she sees before she goes down to the basement is Buffy closing the door on Spike.

It almost makes her smile.

//

Faith sits on her bed, eyes open but not seeing, mouth still bloody from where Buffy hit her. She’s in pain, but not because of the bruise.

She should have known that they’d be back to this eventually. Fighting, arguing, bloodying their hands against each others’ sharpest parts. It’s how she and Buffy have always operated, and she was probably a fool to hope for anything else. 

The basement door cracks open, sending a sliver of light falling down the stairs, and Faith looks up. Buffy is standing at the top of the steps.

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

Faith gets up, moving so that they’re both standing on the staircase, Faith in the darkness on the bottom step and Buffy in the light at the top. Probably some kind of symbolism to that, Faith thinks.

“Sorry for what, B?” Faith asks. “Sorry for hittin’ me or sorry for - ” 

“For everything,” Buffy says. “Look, I know that we kind of messed things up. I just want to go back to normal, okay?”

“Yeah, alright.” Faith’s voice cracks a little, and she hates herself for it. “Whatever that means.”

“Faith - ” 

“It’s fine,” Faith says. “We’re five by five. Just go, okay?”

She waits until Buffy disappears and the basement door swings closed again, and then she leans back against the wall, holding her hand to her bloody lips. 

Back to normal.

//

Faith shows up at work the next day for the first time in a week, fully expecting to get her ass handed to her, along with her time card and a severance paycheck. She spends the entire seven-hour shift making Doublemeat Medleys in a kind of nervous haze, just waiting for Manny to show up and fire her.

When Manny finally does emerge from his office, he barely spares her a look. He just walks past, nodding to her, a look of supreme apathy on his face.

Faith shrugs and goes back to stacking chicken and beef patties.

//

Faith stares at Willow. “You wanna have a what?” 

“I don’t want to,” Willow clarifies. “Anya decided that she has to have a wedding planning party, and she’s throwing it here. Nothing I said could convince her to drop it.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Faith grumbles. “As if we give a shit about planning her wedding.”

“I do!” Willow says indignantly. “Weddings can be very fun and - and magical. Anyways, I need you to move off the couch so I can decorate.” 

Faith groans but moves into the middle of the room and watches as Willow waves her arm around the room, making lanterns and balloons appear out of thin air. As a final touch, Christmas lights drape themselves over all the furniture.

“There,” Willow says, beaming at her handiwork. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Passable,” Faith mutters. 

Buffy walks in, her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Will, have you seen my green sweater?” Her eyes flick over to Faith, and her entire demeanor changes like she’s flipped a goddamn light switch. Faith has to work hard not to look at her for too long.

Normal, Faith reminds herself. They’re back to normal.

Back to not touching each other and not talking unless it’s about patrols or grocery lists. Back to feeling the tension between them stretch out for miles but refusing to snap it. Back to Faith pretending that she’s not stupidly in love. 

Nothing but defensiveness and mixed signals. Feels like they’re seventeen again. 

And yeah, it hurts. Faith feels a constant pull towards Buffy, like she’s meant to be at her side, and it hurts not being able to kiss her or fuck her or even touch her. But she doesn’t dare give in to the pull, because she knows that Buffy will push back.

She won’t let herself lose Buffy again, not all the way. Not this time. Even if it means stifling her feelings until she almost can’t breathe from the weight of them.

“Yo, B,” she says. “Now that you’re here, I’ll let you deal with Willow’s decoration stuff.” She leaves the room as fast as she can without running, and shuts herself in the downstairs bathroom. 

The mirror in the bathroom is dusty, and Faith wipes it off with her sleeve before staring into it. She’s not a murderer anymore, but she’s still got the face of one.

Maybe Spike was right. Maybe Buffy is too good for her.

If she looked like someone else, would Buffy Summers be able to love her?

God.

_ This isn’t anything new, _ she reminds herself. _ You’ve been in love with her since you were seventeen. You know how to push it down, how to distract yourself from feeling anything. It’s the same as it always was. _

But it’s  _ not _ the same, because now Faith knows what it’s like to be with Buffy. For a short time, she had damn near everything she’d always wanted, and now that it’s been taken away, it hurts a hell of a lot more to love Buffy.

She wonders if this is what it felt like when Buffy was ripped out of heaven.

//

The party is just as stupid as Faith thought it would be. 

The lights and balloons help a little bit, but Faith can’t help notice that it’s less of a party and more of Anya loudly blabbering on about her wedding plans while she pretends that she’s not playing footsie under the dining room table with Xander at the same time. It’s enough to make Faith gag.

She’s half asleep on the sofa, tuning out Anya’s endless speech about bridesmaid dresses and wedding cakes and color-coordinated floral decorations while holding a bowl of popcorn to her chest. At least there’s decent snacks. She wishes she were somewhere else, anywhere else. She could be in the Bronze right now, getting plastered and dancing with some stranger to help her forget about Buffy.

Right, that’s why she’s still here. Because it gives her an excuse to be in the same room with Buffy.

Faith glances at the girl in question through half-closed eyes. Buffy’s sitting on the couch next to Willow, nodding unenthusiastically to whatever Anya is talking about now. She evidently found the sweater she was looking for, because she’s wearing a knitted emerald green top that matches her eyes, and her hair is hanging around her shoulders in loose golden curls. Beautiful.

Faith squeezes her eyes tightly shut again as her heart begins to ache.

//

She isn’t quite sure when she fell asleep, but when her eyes open again, the living room is dark and empty, and the decorations are gone. Faith blinks, feeling like her head is full of cotton wool. She stretches out, her arms sore from sleep, and it’s only then that she realizes someone covered her with a blanket while she was out.

Probably the same someone who’s sitting at the dining room table, facing towards her.

“Hey,” Faith says quietly. 

Buffy flinches in surprise, then looks relieved as she realizes that Faith is awake. “Hey. You fell asleep during the party, so I figured I should just, you know. Let sleeping Faiths lie.”

“Thanks for that,” Faith says, swinging her legs out and moving herself into a sitting position. Now that she’s upright, she can see that Buffy is holding something - a long, narrow piece of paper. “Whatcha got there?”

“Giles gave me a check,” Buffy says. “Said it’s from the Watcher’s Council, as compensation for me being the Slayer. Guess my death guilted them into finally paying me something.”

Faith fakes offense. “Where’s my check, then?”

“Nonexistent, if I know the Council. Still, at least you’ll be able to quit the Doublemeat Palace.” 

That gets a laugh out of Faith. Buffy smiles, and the sight of it makes Faith suddenly brave in a way that she probably wouldn’t be if she wasn’t still a little fuzzy headed from her accidental nap. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” she asks, lifting the blanket aside to make room on the sofa. Buffy hesitates for a moment, then walks over and sits, settling down next to her, close but not quite touching. Faith reaches over Buffy for the remote, brushing against her chest in the process, and Buffy tenses up, just for a moment, before relaxing again.

They settle on some old movie that Faith’s never seen before and doesn’t care to see now, and Buffy pulls half of Faith’s blanket over her own legs. The only noise in the room comes from the TV and Faith is comfortable, content in a warm sort of way.

It’s the first time in a long time now that she’s spending time with Buffy without wanting to fight or fuck her.

Buffy leans into her, resting against her shoulder, and it takes Faith completely by surprise. She lets it happen, carefully wrapping an arm around Buffy to steady her, and for just a moment, she lets herself imagine that this is their normal.

They’re almost twenty minutes into the movie when Faith realizes that Buffy is asleep.

//

The movie is almost over, the credits rolling by in a blur of white letters, when Buffy stirs again. She sits up, and Faith instantly misses the warmth, the weight against her chest.

“Good morning,” Buffy says, the words coming out a little raspy. It’s so cute that Faith nearly bites through her own lip trying not to smile like the lovesick moron she is.

“Not morning yet, B,” she says softly. “Movie just finished.”

“Oh,” Buffy murmurs sleepily. “Well, can we stay here for a little while? I’m still tired.” She leans on Faith again, and Faith doesn’t know if she’s too tired to know what’s going on or what, but there’s no way in hell she’s going to pass this up. It’s the best thing that’s happened to her in awhile.

And that, she figures, is probably why they get attacked twenty seconds later. She may not be the unluckiest person in the world, but she’s at least on the winner’s podium.

The windows of the living room shatter, spraying glass everywhere, and Faith feels the familiar tingle in her blood that tells her there’s demons to be fought. She and Buffy dive off the sofa, falling to the floor as a large black demon crashes its way into the room.

Buffy flips to her feet and kicks the demon, sending it crashing into the already broken windows. Faith winces as the remaining glass cracks and falls to the ground. Repair bills are gonna be hell.

Another demon jumps through the gaping hole that used to be a perfectly good pair of windows, and Faith greets it with her fist. It gets up, growling, and kicks over a lamp in the corner of the room.

“Will you stop destroying stuff?” Buffy yells at it in frustration. “I can’t afford to replace all this!”

Faith springs forward and hits the lamp-breaking demon with a fierce uppercut. “Not the priority here, B.” 

“Right.” Buffy pivots and yanks open the lid of the weapons chest, handily located by the coffee table. Thank god for Slayer home decor. She tosses Faith a knife, and Faith turns and drives it into one of the demons’ stomachs. Faith punches the demon in the face while twisting the knife, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The other demon roars at the loss of its friend and slams Buffy in the face. She grits her teeth and hits him right back, then kicks him over to Faith, who puts him down with two punches and then pulls the knife out of the first demon and uses it to shish kebab him. Buffy bends over, hands on her knees, to catch her breath.

There’s a clatter of feet against the stairs, and Willow appears, her face white. From the sounds of it, Tara is somewhere in the upstairs hallway trying to convince Dawn to go back to bed.

Willow gapes at the destruction in the living room. “What - what happened?”

“We were watching a movie and a couple demons decided they wanted to share the popcorn,” Buffy replies dryly. “It’s all good.” 

Willow points a shaky finger. “If it’s all good, then what’s that?”

Faith looks where she’s pointing and raises her eyebrows, letting out a whistle. The demon corpses on the floor are dissolving into thick black smoke, and it’s burning a pattern into the floor.

Not just any pattern, either. A pentacle that looks almost the exact same as the one at the bottom of the evil crater. 

Buffy’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding? Those floorboards were just revarnished a couple years ago.” 

“Yeah,” Faith deadpans. “The floor varnish should really be our first concern right now.”

Dawn evidently managed to get past Tara, because she comes running down the stairs now. “What the hell is going on?”   


“Watch the mouth,” Buffy answers automatically. “Just a midnight demon attack. Everything’s fine.”

Dawn looks hysterical. “There are demons attacking our  _ house _ now?”

“They were,” Faith says. “But they’re smoke in the wind now. Don’t sweat it, pipsqueak.”

Dawn glares at Faith, then spins around. “I’m going back to bed.”

Buffy rubs her forehead. “I’ll get Xander to fix the windows tomorrow, I guess. In the meantime...Will, can you put up some kind of barrier spell to replace them?”

Willow nods, steps carefully over the broken glass as she starts muttering Latin mambo jumbo under her breath. Faith looks around at the trashed room and hopes that there’s a discount at the window store.

“Well, if the excitement is over,” she says, “I’m going to bed.”

As she lies on her mattress in the basement, she knows she’s absolutely fucked, because even though two demons just broke into the house and tried to kill them and left evil symbols burned into the floor, all she can think about is how perfect Buffy’s head fits against her shoulder. 

//

“I can’t believe this,” Xander says the next morning, setting his toolbox down in the living room and sighing heavily. “Sanding the pentacles off will take hours. And do you know how many times I’ve had to replace these windows?”   


Faith, passing by him on her way out of the house, ruffles his hair like he’s a little kid. “Practice makes perfect, dude.”

//

Turns out that the demons in the living room were just the tip of the iceberg.

There’s more of them. A lot more. And they’re coming out of that goddamn crater. It gets to the point where there’s at least one a night, crawling out of the earth when the black energy cloud shit starts up again. Faith and Buffy have to give up vamp watch and cemetery patrols, and devote their nights to killing crater creatures instead. 

(They don’t even have time to hook up again, which abjectly blows, but Faith’s not insane over it or anything. She thinks that she needs some time to process what’s going on with her and Buffy, anyways.)

But it’s tiring, and it doesn’t help that they still have absolutely no idea what’s causing it. Even Giles, for all his British librarian tweed coat-wearing Watcher status, hasn’t come up with any answers yet. 

It kind of makes Faith want to kick down the door of his apartment and yell at him, but she can’t really fault the guy. He’s trying his best; she knows that he’s at the magic shop with Willow almost every day, looking for information on the crater or the pentacles or the obsidian crystals and coming up with nothing. It’s a sticky situation all around. 

The bad part is, the demon parade is starting to take a toll on Buffy.

Faith can see it; the look in Buffy’s eyes after they kill whatever hellspawn hopped out of the pit that night is sometimes more one of exhaustion than triumph. It worries her. It reminds her of how Buffy looked right after she came back, and Faith doesn’t like it at all.

So she does her best to make sure that Buffy doesn’t lose her fight.

“Good slay, right?” she says one night, after they bring down a Chaos demon who was trashing the local bank. “Wanna grab a nonfat yogurt? On me.”

Buffy laughs, and Faith feels the knot of worry in her chest loosen a little, but it’s yanked tight again when Buffy starts talking.

“I’m just not sure what’s going on here,” Buffy says. “The crater, the demons, all of it. Honestly, it seems a little bit apocalyptic to me. And I’m not sure I can deal with another one of those. Kind of gets old after the third or fourth time, you know?”

Faith gives Buffy a light dig in the ribs. “C’mon B, we’re two hot chicks with superpowers. We’re always down for another apocalypse.” 

“I just wish that we knew more about what was going on, you know? Willow and Giles have been going through all these books and texts and turning up nothing, and it’s unnerving, you know? I’m used to them always coming up with something.”

“Hey, you know I’m not a research jockey, but you gotta have a little trust in the nerds. They’ll dig somethin’ up.”

Buffy nods, looking mostly convinced. “Yeah, you’re right.”

A part of Faith wonders how the hell they got here, how she ended up being the one to comfort Buffy. She’s tried to kill all of Buffy’s friends at least once, and now here she is, talking them up in the hopes that Buffy will ditch the hopeless act. 

Times change, she guesses. Tables turn. She’s not the same person she was three years ago, and neither is Buffy.

//

Faith doesn’t quit the Doublemeat Palace yet.

She knows that she doesn’t have to work there anymore, not now that Giles is showering Buffy with Council dollars, but for some reason she doesn’t want to quit. Somewhere along the way, she started to like the job, not for what it was, but for what it represented. It was nice to have a real job, one that gave her money earned by legit means, not because she killed someone or fucked someone else.

Also, it’s a refuge from real life. Slaying life. Faith’s never been one to back down from a fight, but even she has to admit that killing demons occasionally gets a little monotonous.

So does working at a fast food restaurant, but whatever. The most dangerous things at the Doublemeat are the burger patties, and it’s rare that they’re harder to deal with than a fresh-from-the-crater demon. 

So yeah, Faith doesn’t quit yet. She’s waiting on a genuine reason to leave, besides the fact that she doesn’t really need the money anymore. 

(A week later, when one of the regular customers turns out to be a demon host and Faith has to fight the giant evil snake that erupts from the lady’s neck, she figures that’s enough of a reason. She shoves the snake through the meat grinder and then leaves her time card on Manny’s desk, and just like that, she’s unemployed again.)

//

Willow and Giles call an emergency Scooby meeting at the Magic Box two nights after Faith quits her job. She and Buffy show up late, covered in tar-like black streaks from fighting the Hylyrian demon that popped out of the pit that night.

Faith hops up onto the counter, ignoring Anya’s scowl of disapproval, and tries not to mind that Buffy sits next to Willow instead of joining her.

“Okay,” Willow says. “I’ve called you all here because we think we’ve found something.”

Buffy’s face lights up. “That’s great, Will. What’ve we got?”

Willow nods to Giles, and he rolls in an honest to god rotating chalkboard. He flips it over to reveal a side filled with notes and diagrams, and Faith stifles a yawn. This isn’t going to be a quick meeting.

“So we’ve been doing research on that pentacle that appeared at the bottom of the crater,” Willow explains. “But that didn’t get us very far because it’s like the most basic pentacle ever, and there’s - there’s so many variations that we couldn’t find anything. So instead we started looking into the origins of the pentacle, the deepest history, like if the pentacle was a tree, the history would be the roots - ” 

“Getting a little lost with the analogy here, Will,” Xander says, and for once Faith agrees with him. “Do we have to chop down any trees here, or what?”

Willow gestures towards the drawings on the chalkboard. “So pentacles are usually, you know, used to - to summon demons. But this one text that we found today suggested that the original use of pentacles was to raise the dead. Not necessarily demons.”

_ Like Buffy, _ Faith thinks. She looks across to Buffy, notices the way she flinches almost unnoticeably at Willow’s words.

“Cut to the chase here, Red,” Faith says. “We don’t got all night.”

“R-right,” Willow says. “So between this ancient text and this tome on the - the dark arts, Giles and I, we figured out that the pit is there to raise a dead demon from the depths of hell.”

Faith’s eye twitches. She’s not about to get her panties in a bunch over one resurrected demon, but from the way Willow and Giles are glancing nervously at each other, it’s not just any run of the mill baddie.

Giles takes off his glasses and starts polishing them. Definitely not just any demon. “The other demons that have been crawling out of the pit seem to be a - a sort of placeholder,” he says. “We theorize that they are located in circles of hell that are closer to the surface than the demon trying to rise, and so they’re rising to earth as a sort of preliminary action. And, of course, they’re doing the bidding of Asmodeus, trying their best to help him rise.” 

“Those demons who claimed to have a master,” Buffy muses. “They must have been talking about him.”

Xander holds up a hand. “Back up, back up. Who is this demon exactly?”

Giles starts polishing the glasses even harder. He’ll probably end up setting them on fire if this conversation keeps going. “Well, we’re not one hundred percent sure, but we think that it’s Asmodeus.”

Tara gasps. Anya whistles. Dawn, Xander, and Buffy look as confused as Faith feels.

“This assface guy, he’s bad news then?” she asks. 

“Asmodeus, yes,” Giles said. “He is one of the ancient demons, a being of pure evil who rules over a domain in the seventh circle of hell. He once walked this earth, crushing its inhabitants underfoot, but he was eventually cast down into the hellfires by powers of light - the same powers of light, in fact, who first inspired the creation of the Slayer. He is a king among demons, the bringer of death, the - ” 

“He’s totally hot,” Anya interrupts.

Everyone turns and stares at her, Faith included.

“What?” Anya asks. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard the stories. He’s so powerful.” She looks a little dreamy, and Faith suddenly feels better about her own taste. No matter how low she may have gone in the past, she’s never thirsted over an evil demon before.

_ But Buffy has,  _ her brain reminds her.  _ Angelus, even Spike… _

“Shut up,” Faith mutters to herself.

“Yeah, shut up,” Xander echoes, directing this comment towards Anya. “What, am I not as good as some stupid demon king?”

Anya squints at him. “To be fair, you don’t have a palace in hell.”

Giles clears his throat loudly. “Ridiculous sidebar conversations aside, we were in the middle of an important discussion here. Willow, if you could?”

Willow opens the book in her hands, a big volume with yellowed pages that looks like it’ll fall apart if someone sneezes on it. “Right, so we’re pretty sure that Asmodeus will be rising soon. What we don’t know is how, exactly. From - from what we’ve gathered, there would need to be a pretty powerful catalyst for the resurrection. But the book goes blank where it should have a description of the process.”

Faith tilts her head and sees that Willow’s right. There’s a blank page under her hand, empty of everything but water stains.

“Okay, well, at least we’re sort of getting somewhere,” Buffy says. “Maybe there’s another ancient text somewhere that goes with that one? Like a sequel?

Faith squints at the paper. If she looks at it just the right way, it almost seems like there’s faint writing across the surface.

“Hey, Red,” she says. “Did ya try any magic on the blank pages? Revealer spell or something?”   


“No, I didn’t,” Willow says. “I don’t think I’ve ever found something hidden in a book. They’re usually, you know. Open books.”

Faith shrugs. “Well, ya may as well try.”

Willow glances to Buffy, who nods, and then runs her hand over the page, whispering something. There’s a rushing sound, and then letters start to appear on the page, bleeding through in dark ink.

“Whoa,” Faith says. “Wasn’t actually expecting that to work. Color me impressed.” 

Willow raises her head suddenly like she’s a puppet on the end of a string, her hand still on the page, her eyes glowing solid black. Xander shoves himself away from the table so fast that he falls to the floor, still in his chair. Dawn and Tara both look terrified, caught between wanting to help and wanting to back away.

“Will, baby,” Tara says, reaching for her. “Calm down, okay, just let go of the magic…”

The page of the book is starting to smoke where Willow’s hand is pressed against it, and her eyes are still in dark mode. Faith shakes her head, then jumps down from the counter. 

“Sorry about this, Red,” she says, and then clocks Willow in the face, making sure to hold back from using her full strength. Tara gasps, and Willow crumples to the floor, her hand coming loose from the book.

“Wha - ” Willow opens her eyes, blinking, disoriented. Faith is relieved to see that they’re back to normal. “What just happened?”

“You went all evil eye on us,” Xander says from his position on the floor. “Black pupils, possessed-looking stare, the whole shebang.”

Willow winces, pressing her hand to her face. “My face hurts. Did - did someone hit me?”   


Faith raises her hand. “Only to get you back to normal. Scout’s honor.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Willow mutters, letting Tara help her up. 

“Hey, don’t knock it, strawberry. It worked.”

Giles is bending over the table now, looking at the newly revealed writing. His forehead is creasing in a frown, but Faith doesn’t think it’s the time to tell him that it might stick that way if he’s not careful.

Buffy taps him on the shoulder. “Giles? What does it say?”

“Oh, dear,” Giles says to himself. “Oh, dear, oh dear.” 

Faith feels a strange tension wrapping around her suddenly, a feeling of dread like the apprehension before a hard fall. She glances at Buffy, and reads her expression perfectly; Buffy’s feeling the same thing. They’re attuned to the same wavelength right now, and the vibrations are all bad.

Xander, oblivious to all of this, finally struggles his way back up to table level. “What’s going on?”

“Giles, tell us,” Buffy says, quietly but forcefully, and her words seem to ring through the shop like the sound of metal striking metal.

Giles seems incapable of speech, so Willow moves him out of the way to read the page herself, still shaky from her Black Eyed Peas moment.

“The demon will be raised from hell,” Willow reads, her voice quiet but steady, “by the spilling of the blood of one cast from Heaven.”

Faith feels it suddenly, a stab of fear like she hasn’t felt since the night that Buffy came back. She looks to Buffy, sees her own fear mirrored across her face. 

Buffy takes a step back from the table, her eyes darting around between everyone, her mouth moving and failing to form words, and then she turns and runs out of the shop, the door flying wide open behind her.

“Buffy, wait,” Giles yells after her, but he’s speaking to thin air. Buffy is gone.

Gone, but not alone. Faith runs after her, spurred on by the shouts of Buffy’s friends fading in the distance.

//

“Buffy,” Faith yells, following the flash of golden hair in front of her. “Just hold on a minute. Stop.” 

Buffy doesn’t turn to look at her, but she does slow her pace, letting Faith catch up. They walk together in silence, face forward, steps matching.

“I think Spike was right,” Buffy says, and Faith almost stops dead in her tracks. That’s not a sentence she ever wants to hear.

“He must have been,” Buffy continues. “I must have come back wrong somehow. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, what he said, and now I know that he was right all along. I’m different now. Damaged. Wrong.” 

Faith grabs her by the shoulders, gripping hard, wanting her to pay attention. Buffy’s expression is so full of worry and pain, it makes Faith hurt in reaction. 

“He wasn’t right,” Faith says. “There’s nothing wrong with you, B. You’re fine.”

“A demon king is planning to rise and destroy the earth, and  _ my _ blood is what’s going to allow him to do that,” Buffy snaps. “I think that qualifies as something wrong with me.”

“B,” Faith says. “ _ Buffy _ . It’s not gonna happen.”

They’re on Revello Drive now, their feet having unconsciously carried them home, and Buffy pauses on the porch steps, her face vulnerable.

“I know that I said I wanted things to go back to normal,” she says. “But there really is no normal, is there?”

Faith shakes her head, and Buffy leans forward to kiss her against the door, so frantic and desperate and needy that Faith can’t say no. She gropes for the doorknob as they kiss, sending them stumbling into the front hall, and they find their way to the basement, dropping their clothes on the steps, falling into Faith’s bed like it’s the only thing that can save them.

In a way, Faith thinks, it is. 

She’s always been at her best and most honest with Buffy when they’re physical, and that doesn’t change just because they’re sleeping together instead of throwing punches. They’ve always spoken better with bodies than with words. So Faith kisses her words into Buffy’s skin, says everything she’s too scared to voice out loud with her lips and hands instead, and hopes that it will mean something this time.

//

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Buffy says later, lying in the darkness next to her. “All I know is that when I’m with you, I feel alive like I used to. I can’t give you more than that right now.”

Faith breathes out slowly. It’s not quite a confession, but it’s something close. She doesn’t know if that’s enough, but she hopes it is. 

She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, Buffy is gone.

Faith thinks about the definition of insanity that Buffy told her about, how it's doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different result. She thinks that by those standards, she's probably already insane. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the great thing about writing buffy fic is that if you write something unrealistic or leave something unresolved, it doesn't matter because joss whedon did so much of that shit on the actual show that it just seems normal


	4. Chapter 4

Faith hadn’t thought that Sunnydale could get much worse, but in the days that follow their breakthrough at the magic shop, she’s proven wrong.

There’s more demons in the streets than ever before. She can barely run to the store for a gallon of milk without running into some scaly, pointy, ten-clawed fucker from the depths of hell. She and Buffy spend their entire time on patrols fighting demons instead of vamps, and it’s starting to get on Faith’s nerves. She’s a vampire Slayer, goddamn it.

The worst part about the crowd of demons is that they all seem to want to carry Buffy off with them. 

Faith gets it - after all, that’s what she wants, too - but it gets annoying having to deal with them trying to drag her girl away every night. (Even if Buffy’s not her girl. Really, really not her girl. Not her anything.)

“God, this is getting old,” Faith says, slicing the head off of a reptilian demon who jumped them on their way home from the cemetery. “Every demon bitch in this town wants a piece of ya, B. What am I, chopped liver?”

“No, but he is,” Buffy quips, watching the head fall to the ground.

Faith twirls her knife in her hand, letting the blood slide off in an arc of red droplets. Buffy steps back to avoid getting splattered. 

“They’re all after me,” Buffy says, more seriously now. “Trying to bleed me out and raise the big bad demon guy. Guess I’m a hot commodity.”

“Emphasis on  _ hot _ ,” Faith says. Buffy rolls her eyes and pushes her away lightly. “Don’t worry, B. They’ll never take ya.”

“I don’t know,” Buffy says, a small frown creasing her forehead. “I think I need to go back to training with Giles for a while.”

“Oh,” Faith says, a little disappointed. She doesn’t want to lose time with Buffy, but she can’t exactly fault the other Slayer for wanting to spend some time with her Watcher. God knows if Faith’s Watcher were still around, Faith would want to be training with her again. 

“You’re coming along.”

//

Faith sits in the magic shop training room the next day, leaning on a pile of rolled up mats and watching as Buffy goes through some kind of meditation voodoo routine with Giles. She’s sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by crystals, a short wooden post balanced next to her.

Giles is walking around the crystal circle, instructing her on finding the balance or some hippie shit. Faith’s not impressed. 

“Uh, how exactly is this helping us fight demons?” she asks skeptically, watching as Buffy flips over and starts balancing on one hand. 

“This is an important exercise in rediscovering focus and balance,” Giles lectures. 

“Doesn’t look that important to me,” Faith argues. “Shouldn’t we be out there killing demons while you give us pointers or something? Ain’t that what the whole Watcher gig is really about?” 

Giles looks at her sternly, pushing his glasses up over the bridge of his nose. “You have been fighting demons every night, haven’t you? Sometimes you need to - to take a step back in order to see the bigger picture.”

“Yeah, alright,” Faith mutters, rolling her eyes. If this is what all of Buffy’s training sessions with Giles were like back in the day, Faith feels dumb for getting so jealous over not being invited along. 

Buffy lets herself fall back to the ground. “Actually, I kind of agree with Faith. Shouldn’t you be like, giving us some new weapon or fighting technique or something? I mean, if this Asmodeus demon ends up rising, he’ll be pretty hard to defeat.”

Giles looks mildly disapproving, although Faith has no idea why. “Buffy, you’ve fought a god before. You will be able to defeat this demon. Assuming he even rises, of course.”

Faith frowns. “Hold up, hold up. You fought a  _ god _ ?”

“Yeah, and I ended up dying,” Buffy says. Faith inwardly winces at how casually Buffy talks about her death, as if it hadn’t felt like the end of the world, as if it hadn’t wrecked Faith like a goddamn hurricane. “Please, Giles. There has to be something new to teach me. A spell, a weapon, anything.”

Buffy’s face looks almost desperate now, and Faith feels it like a hit to the stomach. Giles’ expression softens. 

“Alright, Buffy,” he says. “I’ll - I’ll look for something more.”

Faith can see the tension leaving Buffy’s shoulders as she sighs in relief, and she wonders what it would be like to have someone like Giles, someone she could run to for help. Bar the few weeks she had with Diana, she’s never had anyone like that.

Buffy bends over to collect her coat, and so Faith is the only one who sees the flash of misgivings crossing Giles’ face.

//

Faith’s back from patrol that night, showering off dirt and demon dust, when she hears an echoing sound in her ears, like someone’s yelling to her from the other side of the Grand Canyon. She shakes her head, trying to get rid of it, but it keeps going. Then suddenly it turns into words.

_ Faith. Faith!  _

Faith jumps, flinging a bar of soap halfway across the bathroom, and almost falls and cracks her head open against the edge of the tub. 

“What the fuck,” she says out loud. 

_ Faith, I need your help.  _ This time, the voice is recognizable. 

“Willow?” Faith says hesitantly. “What the fuck are you doing in my head, man?”

_ Telepathy. Witch stuff.  _

“Shoulda known.” Faith steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around herself. “Where the hell are ya, anyway?”   


_ I’m downtown. Can you come to where I am? I really need help. _

“Fine,” Faith says, hopping into a pair of pants. “But if this is a trick, I ain’t gonna be happy, and I’ll be expressing that unhappiness with pointy weapons.”

//

Faith jogs along the street, looking around for Willow. When the witch had said downtown, she’d apparently meant the ugliest, sketchiest part. 

“Red?” Faith calls out softly. “You around?” 

“Over here,” says a voice that sounds like Willow’s, weaker than Faith has ever heard it. She rounds the corner and Willow is there, slouched against a filthy brick wall in a sitting position. Faith notices, with a chill, that there are black veins visible in her neck. When Willow turns to the light, her eyes flash solid black for a moment.

“What the hell happened to ya?” Faith asks, crouching down next to her.

Willow groans softly. “Magic.”

“Someone did this to ya?”

“I did this to me.” Willow grabs Faith’s outstretched hand and slowly stands up. “I found this magic and it was amazing, but - but then I crashed or something, I think - ” 

Faith turns her mind back to the conversations that she’s had with Willow recently. “Shit, Red, is this what you were talkin’ about the other day? Are you addicted to magic? Is that a thing?”

“Don’t know. Think so,” Willow says. 

Faith whistles softly. “Well, that sounds fucked.”

“It’s - it’s not all magic,” Willow explains hastily. “The thing is, I found this - this warlock, and he runs a kind of magic den - like a drug den but for magic. I went there because I wanted more power.”

“Pretty sure you’re powerful enough, aren’t ya?” Faith says. Willow is leaning on her for support now, and Faith’s trying her hardest not to pull away from the contact. “Like, you do all those locator spells and shit just fine.”

Willow trips on a pothole, and Faith grabs her wrist to keep her steady. “No but - it’s not enough. Not with that demon thing coming. I need - I need enough power to be able to keep Buffy safe this time. I can’t let anything happen to her. She shouldn’t even be here, and - and she wouldn’t be if it weren’t for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure she’d be too thrilled to find out that her best friend’s turned into some kinda magic junkie,” Faith points out. 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Willow begs. “Not - not yet. I can find a way to make the magic work for me.”

“Alright,” Faith said doubtfully. “For now. Long as you’re not about to go whacko and try to kill me with evil witch voodoo. And while you’re at it,  _ never _ start broadcasting Air Willow into my head again” 

“Th - thanks. I won’t.”

They walk slowly up the street, so slowly that Faith is half tempted to sling Willow over her shoulder and carry her back to the house to speed things up.

“Why did ya call me?” she asks. “Coulda gotten any of the Scoobies to help, but you wanted the loose cannon?”

“You know how to deal with addiction,” Willow says. “Or at least, you’ve been around it. And - and I wouldn’t feel bad about blasting you if you didn’t promise not to tell Buffy and the others.”

Faith makes a noncommittal noise in answer. She hates to admit it, but it’s actually kind of nice to be the one who’s called in to help, for once. Like maybe she’s not in the fast lane on the road to redemption, but she’s at least on the right highway.

//

Buffy gets rejected from UC Sunnydale. 

A day later, she starts spending more time at the Magic Box with Giles. 

Faith tries not to miss her.

She understands. She knows that even though she doesn’t let on, somewhere deep down, Buffy is convinced that the Asmodeus demon will rise. Faith knows this because in some strange, fundamental way, she feels the same. It’s like feeling a storm coming, but not knowing when it will hit.

Buffy’s been brought back from heaven to fight a war from hell, and Faith knows how hard that must be. 

So she understands, and she patrols alone some nights, and she tries not to be jealous of Giles for taking Buffy from her, and she tries not to be jealous of Buffy for having Giles.

Faith isn’t the only one feeling Buffy’s absence, either. She can tell that Dawn misses having her big sister around for her. She can see it in the way Dawn’s face falls when Buffy brushes her off for training, and the way Dawn hopefully waits until the late hours of the night to eat dinner, just in case Buffy comes back to eat with her. 

Faith wants to say something to Dawn, wants to help make it better, but she has no clue what she’d say. 

She feels bad, cause the kid’s basically got no one right now. Willow and Tara are hardly ever home. Buffy’s off at the magic shop or patrolling with Faith most nights. Spike’s never around anymore - not that any of them want him - but she knows that Dawn was kind of friends with him for a little while. 

If she’s being honest, Faith also feels kind of bad for herself. She feels like these days, she’s only got Buffy when they’re pressed up against the wall or on top of each other on her shitty mattress in the basement, and it’s never long enough for her. 

She wants more.

More of Buffy. More  _ from _ Buffy. More, more more. It may not be fair to ask of her, but Faith is stupid in love, and for once, she wants something more than a one night stand, even if that one night stand is a recurring occurrence. 

She wants something better.

She tries to pretend that she doesn’t want anything else, that she’s fine with Buffy rolling away from her and leaving right after they’ve made each other come so hard that Faith has to bite almost through her own lip to keep from screaming, or worse yet, saying something stupid like “I love you.” She pretends and she does a damn good job of it, for the most part.

But one night, she just can’t.

Buffy’s got one hand between Faith’s legs and she’s kissing Faith’s neck, making it almost impossible for Faith to think straight, but somehow she manages to get the words out.

“B, wait,” she says, the words coming out a little strangled. “Hold up a second, okay?” 

Buffy pauses and looks at her, confused but expectant, and Faith immediately misses having Buffy’s lips on her neck. She probably should have waited until after to say anything. 

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asks. Her eyes are full of lust, and Faith almost says  _ fuck it  _ and lets Buffy keep going, but she manages to get herself under control. 

“I - ” she starts, her voice rasping a little bit. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Buffy takes her hand away from Faith now. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Faith says, gesturing between their chests with a quick motion of her hand. “I can’t. Not anymore. Not if it doesn’t mean anything.”

Buffy sinks back, pulling away from her. “Oh,” she says. 

Faith looks at Buffy sitting there shirtless, her blonde hair falling in messy tangles and her skin almost shining in the dim light of the basement, and wonders what the hell she’s doing. Buffy is all she’s wanted for three years, and she almost can’t believe that she’s being stupid enough to cut this off.

If her seventeen year old self could see her now, she would probably beat the shit out of herself. 

But she has to do this. It might hurt now, but it’ll hurt worse if she keeps letting this happen. 

(Faith has always been in the business of self-preservation. It just usually doesn’t hurt this much.)

Buffy speaks again, her voice quieter now. “You’ve never been the type to turn down sex,” she says. “I don’t mean that like it sounds, I’m just saying...one night stands, no strings attached, that’s kind of your thing, isn’t it?”

Faith grimaces. “Way to put it bluntly.”

Buffy shakes her head impatiently. “You know what I mean, Faith. Why is it different this time?”

Faith bites her lip and looks away, not wanting to answer. Buffy puts a hand on her shoulder, so lightly that Faith can barely feel the touch. 

“Why?” she asks again, and Faith almost wants to laugh, but she’s worried it might come out more like a sob. This has to be some kind of sickening karma from the universe. The one person she’s ever wanted more than a one night stand from just has to be the one who doesn’t want her.

Faith turns back, looks directly into Buffy’s eyes. “You know why.”

Buffy holds the eye contact for a moment, making Faith feel like she might drown in the brilliant green depths of her eyes, and then she nods and leans down to kiss Faith gently on the forehead before getting out of the bed and putting her clothes back on. She slowly walks up the basement stairs, each step soft and light, and Faith watches her go.

Right as she reaches the top of the stairs, Buffy turns and looks back, just for a moment. 

//

Things change between the two of them after that night, and Faith almost thinks it’s for the better.

She and Buffy somehow start getting along better than they ever have before in their lives. It feels like it did when Faith first came to Sunnydale, in that short time between her arrival and her descent into madness, when she and Buffy almost acted like good friends.

She didn’t know what she expected from cutting off their not-quite-friends with benefits situation, but it wasn’t this.

They train together with Giles. They patrol together, making jokes and sharing weapons, cutting down demons like piñatas. Buffy’s mood seems lighter than it has in a long time, and Faith cherishes that. 

She does still catch herself staring at Buffy with a stare that’s much too yearning to be friendly. She does still touch herself to the memories of Buffy beneath her, inside of her, on top of her. She’s still in love, and she knows it. But she’s happy enough with what she has now, because in a way, her deepest wish was always to be Buffy Summers’ friend. It was true when she first arrived in Sunnydale, and it’s true now. 

So that’s it, Faith decides. She can live with this. 

She ignores the voice in the back of her mind that tells her she’ll always be in love with Buffy, that she’ll never truly have what she wants. If she learned anything while she was in prison, it’s how to live with what she’s given.

Buffy isn’t going to be hers, and that’s alright. Faith is still living.

//

“Hey,” Faith says one night, when they’re done patrolling. “Do you want to hit the Bronze for old times’ sake?”

Buffy looks doubtful. “It’s kind of late, Faith.”   


Faith hip checks her lightly, sending her stumbling a few steps forwards. “C’mon, B. Live a little. We’ve spent half the night chopping up evil nasties - don’t we deserve a break?”

“Okay,” Buffy says, a little sparkle in her eyes, and god, Faith’s missed seeing that. “Let’s go.”

The Bronze is crowded, with people filling the dance floor and clustering around the pool table, and Buffy grabs Faith’s hand to drag her through the masses of people. Faith tries not to read into it, and tries to ignore the way her blood feels like it’s electrified in her veins just from contact with Buffy.

“You’re paying for the drinks,” she yells over the pounding bass of the live music. Buffy shoots her a wink and nods, and Faith tries not to melt.

They find their way to the bar and order two beers, and Faith asks for two shots of tequila as well; there’s no way she’s getting through this night sober. 

“It’s kind of strange to be back,” Buffy says, once they’re sitting at one of the tall, round tables in the back. “I don’t think I’ve been here since…” She trails off, turning her attention to peeling the label off of her beer bottle. 

“Feel good to be back?” Faith asks, grinning at her. 

“Well, yeah,” Buffy admits. “But that might just be the company.” She smiles at Faith, a little dazed, already tipsy, and Faith has to laugh. Of course Buffy is a lightweight. A featherweight, even.

“I have to say, though,” Buffy says, her smile disappearing now. “I kind of feel like that guy fiddling when Rome was burning. Like, maybe we should still be out there killing stuff.”

Faith waves a hand. “Ya gotta have some time for yourself too, B. Loosen up. That giant-ass demon ain’t even risen yet.”

Buffy nods, tipping her bottle back and draining it. “You’re right. For once.”

“Hey,” Faith says, feigning offense. “I’ve been right before.”

“Rarely,” Buffy says, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’ve always been a little slow.”

“Yeah, I get that now,” Faith sighs. She stares at Buffy, admiring the way her hair glows under the golden lights of the Bronze, thinking about how wonderful it is that they can just sit here together and banter like they haven’t in years. Here in this moment, she can almost pretend that their history isn’t bloody and messy and twenty kinds of rocky, that she didn’t go insane, that Buffy didn’t die, that they haven’t spent the last few months fucking and fucking up. 

She can just sit and allow herself to believe that this is where they begin.

The band onstage launches into a new song, the drums banging and the bassline thudding like a heartbeat, and Faith sets down her beer, trying to figure out whether she’s tipsy enough to ask Buffy to dance. 

She only gets out the words “Do you - ” before all hell breaks loose.

There’s a sound of breaking glass, and something - someone - goes flying across the room, landing on the pool table and breaking it in half. The music cuts out in a screech of feedback. People start screaming, running off the dance floor, and Faith scans the room for the source of the commotion.

Demons. At least ten of them, all tall black creatures with sharply pointed teeth and claws and some sort of red star marking burned into their foreheads, heading in their direction.

“Shit,” Faith says to herself. 

One of the demons smashes a clawed fist through the display cases of baked goods. For a second, Faith mourns the loss of the innocent pastries. 

“Faith.” Buffy grabs her. “We have to do something. There’s still a lot of people inside.”   


“Fine,” Faith sighs. “Diversion time. Let’s motor.”

She and Buffy run into the middle of the room, shoving their way past fleeing Bronzers. Faith waves her arms at the pack of demons. 

“Hey, uglies,” she yells. “Bring the pain.”

The demons’ eyes light up like floodlights, and they charge. Faith stands her ground, digs her stake out of her pocket, and meets one of them with a clean thrust through the chest. He drops to the ground, and she kicks another one backwards onto the ruins of the pool table. 

Buffy grabs a pool cue, swinging it around like a sword. It breaks against a demon’s shoulder, and she uses the two splintery halves to stab it in the eyes. 

“This sucks,” Faith yells, rattling a demon’s jaw with a haymaker punch. “Why did they gotta attack after I drank the tequila?”

“Keep fighting,” Buffy replies. “We need to distract them long enough to let everyone escape.”

Faith kicks the legs out from under a demon, then picks him up and throws him into the bar. Bottles rain down from the shelves, smashing onto his head. “They’re trashing the place.”

“It’s happened before. They’ll rebuild it.”

Another demon grabs Buffy from behind, pulling her towards the door. Faith runs after them and punches the demon in the throat and he lets go of her, choking. Buffy drops him with a quick hit to the chest.

“Everyone’s out,” she says, looking around the deserted room. “Let’s go.”

The demon on the floor starts to get up, and Faith puts him down again with a kick to the jaw. “What? There’s still like five of them.”

“Yeah, and we’re drunk. We have to report these demons to Giles. They’re different from the ones I’ve seen before, and they all have the same symbol on their heads. That can’t be good.”

“You’re not drunk,” Faith grumbles. “You’re barely even tipsy, and it wouldn’t be an issue if you weren’t such a lightweight.” 

The remaining demons start towards them, growling. Buffy grabs Faith by the sleeve and drags her out the ruined doors of the Bronze, and they run for it.

//

“Demons? At the Bronze?” Giles asks, already reaching for his glasses and a polishing cloth. Finding none in his pocket, he settles for using the edge of his shirt.

“At least ten of ’em,” Faith says, slouching down on the short flight of steps that lead down to the main part of the shop. 

“Yeah, they all had this sort of red mark on their foreheads,” Buffy adds. “Like a star.” 

“A star?” Willow asks. “Did it look anything like the one from the pentacle?”

Faith pictures the shape of the blood red star at the bottom of the crater. “Yeah, pretty much the same.”

“Asmora demons,” Willow and Giles say at the same time.

Xander leans forward on the table, folding his hands together. “Sounds kind of like that Asmodeus demon.”

“They are his minions,” Giles says seriously. “If they are showing up in town, this is bad news. I would hazard a guess that this means that - that they are going to attempt to bring Buffy in by force, in order to bleed her for the ritual.”

Buffy frowns. “Minions? Why don’t we get minions?”

“We get Xander,” Faith says. “Same thing.”

“Hey!”

“Yes, indeed,” Giles says, almost to himself. “This does not bode well. Asmodeus must be doubling his efforts to rise.”

“Well we’ll just double the smackdown we put on him, then,” Faith says. She studies Giles carefully. He looks even more nervous than usual, polishing his glasses and fidgeting with the tail of his dress shirt. Prison taught her how to read other people pretty well, and right now Giles may as well be holding up a neon sign that says “I have a secret.”

Sure enough, he clears his throat nervously. “Ahem. I - I have an announcement to make.” 

They all turn to him expectantly, and he looks even more flustered now. “I know that the timing of this is somewhat - rather - well, extremely unfortunate, but unfortunately, it must be said. I will be relocating to England again, permanently this time, and my flight is in two days time.”

The room falls dead silent, everyone staring at each other in shock, but Faith has eyes only for Buffy. The blonde Slayer’s expression is one of complete hurt and betrayal. 

“Oh, Giles, that’s so sad,” Anya says sympathetically. “Still, at least you won’t be coming back and making me worry that you’ll reclaim the store again.”

“Uh, An,” Xander mutters. “Not exactly the time.”

“Giles, w-wait,” Willow stutters. “Are you sure you want to go now? I mean it’s not really the best time, what with the - the evil pit demon and all.” 

Giles puts his glasses back on, looking regretful but determined. “I’m sorry, but I have to.”

“Then go,” Buffy says quietly, her voice choked but not wavering. “Don’t drag it out. I can’t take this again.”

Giles smiles at her sadly. “My dear Buffy. I’m so sorry to do this to you. I hope that one day I’ll see you again, and you’ll understand why I had to leave.” He nods to all of them, and then walks out of the store.

“Are we going to the airport again?” Dawn asks, her tone subdued. “To say goodbye again?”

“You guys can go,” Buffy says. “I’m not.” She turns jerkily and walks past the table, heading for the training room. A minute later they hear the sound of the punching bag being pummeled, and Faith decides that it’s best to give Buffy a little space. 

Giles, on the other hand, she has no qualms about disturbing.

//

The next day, Faith stands in the courtyard of Sunnydale’s apartment complex, outside of Giles’ door. She pauses with her hand halfway to the bell, remembering the last time she was here. Fresh out of her coma, dressed in stolen clothes, pressing her hand to the window and looking in at Buffy and her friends.

What’s past is past, she reminds herself. She brushes the memories away and forgoes the bell, banging her fist on the door instead.

“Come in,” Giles’ voice says, a little muffled. Faith opens the door, walking in and looking around. The room is clean but bare, with boxes stacked neatly in rows by the dining room table. Faith lifts the flap and looks into one. Books. Of course.

Giles appears from the kitchen, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. “Faith. What are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t you be offering me some tea?” Faith cracks. “Where’s that British courtesy?”

“Oh. Well, I could get you a cup if you like, I suppose.”

“Nah. I’m more of a black coffee gal. Or tequila.”

“Yes, well, to each their own.” Giles takes a sip of tea, sets the mug down. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Faith shoves her hands in her pockets, done with the small talk and pleasantries. “I’m here to ask ya what the hell is wrong with your brain.”

Giles frowns at her. “Nothing, as far as I know. What - ” 

“Oh, come on,” Faith interrupts. “I know you’re not this dumb, so stop pretending. Why the hell are you running off to England again instead of stayin’ here and helping us fight the demons and fix the crater and everything? Buffy needs you.”

“That’s precisely the reason that I’m leaving,” Giles says. 

“What kinda fucked up logic - ” 

Giles gestures to one of the stools at the short kitchen counter. “Please, sit for a moment.”

Faith eyes him warily but sits, spinning around on her stool. Giles takes a seat as well.

“As you said before, Buffy needs me. At least, she thinks she does,” Giles says. “The truth is, she needs to learn to live without me.” 

Faith shifts in her seat, anxious to cut in again, but Giles holds up his hand to stop her.

“Over the last week or so, she has been coming to me for advice more than ever, relying on me to provide a solution that I do not yet have. Although I want nothing more than to help her, I feel that the best way to truly do so is - is to teach her that she doesn’t need me.” Giles pauses, reaching for his mug of tea again. Faith catches a waft of the steam - it smells of something sweet and vaguely spicy.

“Buffy must learn to fight this battle without me. I may be her Watcher, but I cannot protect her forever.” 

“Back it up, G man,” Faith says. “I get that you want her to be Miss Independence and everything, but the girl got ripped out of heaven. Shouldn’t ya cut her a little slack?”

Giles’ expression darkens. “I know. She should never have been brought back to this - this plane of existence. The magic that Willow used was dark, corrupt. Not to be tampered with. And yet, Buffy is here, so I must continue to do what I think is best for her, no matter how wrong it seems at this moment.”

Faith shakes her head, determined to make him understand. “You don’t get it, Giles. She really needs you.”

“My dear,” Giles said, his voice almost fond now. Faith is too taken aback by his use of endearment towards her that she forgets to interrupt him. “She does not need me. She has her friends. She has you. Most importantly, she has herself. I only hope that it will become as clear to her as it is to me.”

Faith kicks her heels against the legs of the stool. “So you’re saying that she needs to discover her true power or some shit.”

“Basically, yes. Perhaps in less earthy phrasing.” Giles rests a hand on Faith’s shoulder, and Faith is so startled that she doesn’t shake it off. His touch is warm and comforting, almost like the Mayor’s had once been. 

Although she doesn’t let it show on her face, Faith is moved by Giles’ action. For a moment, she lets herself feel like he’s her Watcher too, someone who cares about her and wants to protect her.

“Buffy will find the right path, Faith,” he says, his tone sure and steady. “And something - something tells me that you will be walking it with her.” 

Faith stands, walks to the door. She pauses for a moment on the threshold, the sun warm on her back as she faces Giles. “Take care of yourself over there in England, yeah?”

Giles smiles at her. “Likewise, Faith.” 

//

Faith sits on the porch, watching as Willow backs the car out of the driveway carefully, Tara at her side in the passenger seat and Dawn poking her head out of the backseat inquisitively. She sees a couple rolled up signs in the back, and something that might be a balloon. Talk about overkill. 

“Didn’t wanna go with them?” she asks, sensing Buffy’s presence behind her.

Buffy sits down. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Magic,” Faith drawls. “You ditched the bon voyage committee, huh?” She nods at the car, which is disappearing as it turns at the end of the street. 

“I just couldn’t. It feels like he’s betraying me, leaving at a time like this. Again.”

Faith decides against telling her what Giles had said the day before, because Buffy probably doesn’t need to hear that her Watcher is basically tossing her in the deep end and hoping she learns how to swim. “You don’t need him, B. Sure, it’s nice having a Watcher and all, but ya don’t need it. I mean, I don’t have one, and look where it’s gotten me.”

Buffy arches an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I’m not the best example,” Faith mumbles. “Point is, you’ll be fine without him. We’ll find a way to deal with the demons or the apocalypse or whatever.  _ You’ll _ find a way.”

“What if I can’t?” Buffy asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I can’t pull this off?”

“Don’t be dumb,” Faith says. “You will. That’s what you’re best at. You’ve saved the world before. You’ve stopped apocalypses. You’re the good in this world. You’re the light.” She stops talking, blushes a little. 

Buffy places her hand on top of Faith’s, resting on the top step of the porch. “Thanks, Faith. I just - the thing is, I don’t think that I’m as good as you think I am.”

“You’re not,” Faith says, with perfect conviction. “You’re better.”

It’s the kind of thing that she never would have said to Buffy three or two years or even six months ago, but she says it now, and watches as Buffy’s face brightens up a little. Faith looks at her smile and thinks  _ there. That’s the light. _

//

Willow, Tara, Dawn, Anya, and Xander come back from the airport about half an hour later, carrying rolled-up posters under their arms. Dawn’s cheeks are tearstained and her eyes are red, and Faith pretends that she doesn’t see it.

“He’s been shipped back to England,” Willow says, her voice full of false cheer. “So, uh - Buffy, have you thought at all about what you want to do for your birthday? It - it is next week, and all.” 

Buffy just shrugs. Faith thinks,  _ huh. It’s gonna be her birthday soon. _

Dawn starts towards the kitchen to make lunch. Willow and Tara follow her, and Buffy drifts along after them, dragged along by Willow.

Faith throws on her jacket and leaves by way of the front door. She’s got things to do.

//

Despite Buffy’s complete lack of excitement about her own birthday, they end up having a party. Faith doesn’t expect much in the way of entertainment - the Scoobies really don’t know how to run things - but she goes along with it for the food. She hopes this party will be better than Anya’s wedding planning party.

That hope is immediately dashed when the bell rings and Faith opens the door to find an unfamiliar man standing on the porch. He’s classically good-looking, in a clean-cut, whitebread, boy next door kind of way.

“Yeah?” she says. “Wrong house?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” the guy says politely. “I’m here for Buffy’s birthday party? Xander invited me - I work with him.”

Faith is really tempted to slam the door in his face, but she grits her teeth and steps back to let him inside. 

“What’s your name?” the guy says.

“Faith.”

“Nice to meet you, Faith. I’m Richard.” He holds out a hand and Faith eyes him in a distinctly unfriendly way. She ignores the hand completely.

“Welcome to the party, Dick,” she says reluctantly. 

“Um, it’s Richard, actually - ” 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Faith says. “Sit down or something. Find yourself a drink.” She forcefully steers him towards one of the living room chairs and then heads for the kitchen, where Willow is preparing snacks.

“There’s an unwanted guest here,” Faith says, propping herself up in the doorway of the kitchen. “Can you make him leave?”

Willow looks up from the bowl of chips that she’s pouring. “Oh, is Richard here?”

“Who’s Richard?” Buffy asks, walking in. “Ooh, chips.” She grabs a handful.

“He’s this really nice guy Xander knows from work,” Willow says. “I thought you might get along well with him.” She winks exaggeratedly, and Faith restrains herself from dumping the bowl of chips on Willow’s stupid wanna-be matchmaker head.

Buffy’s eyes widen, and she speaks with her mouth still full of chips. “Oh. Well, that’s, uh - ” 

“I thought this was a party for Buffy,” Faith says pointedly. “Shouldn’t she be the one to make the guest list?”

“I know that,” Willow says. “I just thought, you know, it’s been a while since she’s been with anyone! She should get back out there, get back on the horse…”

Faith snorts. If only Willow knew. (She’s not really sure how Willow  _ doesn’t _ know, considering that the basement floor is only so thick, but it’s probably a good thing. Faith has no idea what the magnitude of the shitstorm would be if everyone found out about her and Buffy, but she’s guessing it wouldn’t be great.)

Buffy grabs another handful of chips. “You know what, I’ll just go and uh...welcome him to the house. Try to explain us before Anya shows up and starts talking bunny conspiracy theories with him.” 

Faith waits until Buffy’s out of the kitchen, and then she rounds on Willow. “What were you guys thinking?”

Willow’s expression turns defensive. “What? She deserves another chance at love.”

“With Captain Shirt Starch, there?” Faith jerks her chin in the direction of the living room. “Please. That dude would break in half if the breeze blew the wrong way.” 

“Well, okay,” Willow admits. “So he’s not her usual dark and broody, possibly evil type. But maybe she deserves a break from that anyways, you know? Maybe someone different could be really good for her.”

Faith deflates at Willow’s words, her annoyance with Richard mostly gone now. She’s too busy thinking about what Willow said.  _ Maybe someone different could be really good for her. _

Faith may not be evil anymore, but she’s still not the kind of person Willow thinks that Buffy deserves. 

“Bring the snacks out when you’re ready,” Faith says, her mood slipping from annoyed to unhappy. “I’m gonna go sit down.”

Anya and Xander are sitting in the living room with Buffy and Richard when Faith gets back, and Tara and Dawn are there too. Faith takes a seat in one of the armchairs, sitting sideways and dangling her legs over the arm. She watches Buffy and Richard, not liking what she’s seeing.

Buffy is making small talk with Anya about the magic shop, and Richard is staring at Buffy like she’s made of solid gold. Faith feels a hot flash of jealousy, mixed with a stab of anger. The dude may be a total cardboard cut-out who probably has no chance with a girl like Buffy, but Faith still doesn’t like him.

She especially doesn’t like the way he’s obviously trying to put the moves on Buffy.

Richard stretches and tries to wrap his arm around Buffy, and Faith watches through narrowed eyes, wishing that she could kick him out. When Buffy leans back and lets it happen instead of pushing his arm away, Faith has to pinch herself to keep from saying something.

“You’re such a cool girl, Buffy,” Richard says. 

Faith scoffs. What a suck-up.

“Thanks,” Buffy says with a little laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Richard goes even more starry-eyed at the compliment, and Faith can’t hold back her sarcastic comments anymore.

“Hey, Dick,” she says. “Might wanna wipe your mouth off. Think you’re drooling a little.” She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head towards his arm around Buffy. 

Richard blushes and instantly moves his arm. Buffy gets up, grabbing Faith by the collar of her shirt.

“We’ll just get some drinks for you guys,” she announces to the room. “Won’t be a minute.” She pulls Faith into the hallway between the living room and the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Buffy whispers fiercely. “He’s a nice guy! Can’t you go two seconds without busting someone’s chops?”

Faith rolls her eyes. “He looks like a dipshit. Like the boy next door. He probably color codes his wardrobe.” 

“He’s nice,” Buffy insists. “You know what I think? You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” Faith says, letting her voice drop in volume. “Why would I be jealous? He’s not the one who doesn’t know what it’s like to touch you.”

Buffy shivers and takes a step back and Faith leans forward, resting her arm next to Buffy’s head, pinning her to the wall. Buffy licks her lips almost subconsciously, and Faith watches the movement of her tongue.

“I know that you’re hot for me right now,” Faith says, and Buffy bites her lip now, her breath sounding a little ragged. “You think he could make you feel like this?”

Faith knows she’s being stupid, knows she’s got no right or reason to feel this way, but she feels a surge of possessiveness washing over her. She wants to claim Buffy, wants to make it clear that she’s not sharing with anyone, especially not a dumb construction guy. Buffy has seemingly lost the will to argue with her, because she’s not talking anymore, just staring at Faith’s lips.

Faith starts to lean in, and Buffy’s not stopping her.

“Uh,” says someone behind her, and Faith jumps away from Buffy. Tara is standing at the end of the hall, watching them with a slightly amused expression. “Sorry, I was just going to grab a napkin.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Buffy says quickly. “Get the napkin. Get lots of napkins while you’re at it. Napkins for everyone.” 

Tara nods. “What are you guys doing, anyways?”

“Arm cramp,” Buffy says. “I mean, Faith had an arm cramp. I was helping her.”

“Yeah, ow,” Faith says, stretching her arm out now. She clearly isn’t selling it, because Tara looks at her skeptically. 

“I’ll go get Willow to help with the napkins,” Buffy mutters, walking towards the kitchen as fast as she can without running. Tara raises an eyebrow at Faith. 

“An arm cramp, huh,” the witch says, her voice full of gentle sarcasm. “Try not to, uh - overdo it, then.” She smirks before following Buffy’s path to the kitchen.

//

Once everyone is back in the living room, Buffy starts opening the presents. Faith looks at the perfectly wrapped boxes scattered around the room and thinks that there’s no way in hell she’s handing over her present with everyone around, so she settles in to wait.

Buffy unwraps a big box from Dawn, which turns out to be a fancy leather jacket. She looks stunned, and Faith feels the same way, cause there’s no way that Dawn could afford that. Faith takes a closer look at the jacket, noting that the sales tag and electronic tracker are still attached to the sleeve.

Dawn is beaming, unaware that Faith is onto her. “Don’t you love it?”

“Dawn, I -” Buffy says. “This is beautiful, but why is the tag still on it?”

“Oh, uh, uh,” Dawn stutters, avoiding Buffy’s gaze. “Funny. They must have forgotten to take that off.”

Buffy looks a little suspicious, but moves on to the next present, a wooden chest with elaborate designs carved into it. Xander beams proudly, showing off the many compartments for weapons. Faith spares the chest a glance, but keeps her eye on Dawn. She’s going to have words with the kid later, she decides. 

“Thank you guys so much,” Buffy says, smiling at everyone. “This was such a nice little get-together. We should probably wrap it up now, though. It’s a school night for Dawn, and well, you know how it is.”

Richard stands up. “Oh, yeah. I should probably get going too. We’re on site early tomorrow.” 

“That we are,” Xander confirms. “So I should probably get going. Anya and I have some sleep to catch up on.” 

“That’s code for sex,” Anya informs the room. 

“Um, before I go,” Richard says to Buffy. “Could I get your number?” He smiles at her with a dopey expression on his face. 

Buffy flails around for an answer. “Look, you’re really nice, but I just - I mean, it’s not really the best time for me to, you know, get into a relationship or anything. It’s nothing to do with you - ” 

Faith exhales slowly, and it’s only then that she realizes she was holding her breath. 

Richard looks crestfallen. “Oh, okay. That’s totally cool. I should probably, you know. Thanks for the invite.” He gathers his coat and hat and walks towards the door, and Faith watches him go with more than a little satisfaction.

That satisfaction completely disappears, however, when Richard doesn’t leave. He just stops at the door, standing still and staring like he’s forgotten where he is.

“Do ya need help opening the door?” Faith calls to him. “Maybe your tiny arms aren’t strong enough to handle it.” She sees Buffy’s elbow coming towards her ribs, and ducks away.

Richard looks baffled. “I can’t leave.”

“Sure ya can. Open the door and put one foot in front of the other. The quicker the better.”

“No, I mean - ” Richard extends a hand towards the doorknob. “I can’t leave. Something’s stopping me.” 

Xander and Anya rush over to the door. “He’s right,” Xander says. “There’s something going on here.” 

“What could be stopping us from leaving?” Willow questions. “Do you think there’s some kind of magic going on?” She turns to Tara, probably discussing some witchy way of fixing the problem.

Faith looks at Dawn, who’s the only one not looking concerned or confused. “Hey, pipsqueak,” she says loudly. “Got somethin’ to tell us?”

“Dawn?” Buffy asks. “Did you do something to keep us in here?”

“Right, because that’s such a bad thing.” Dawn asks angrily. “Wouldn’t want to be stuck in the house with  _ me. _ That’s probably like, your worst nightmare. Why waste time on the boring little sister? Why wouldn’t you just want to abandon me again like you’ve been doing for the last month?”

“Dawn, wait,” Buffy says, but Dawn is already running upstairs. 

Richard blinks in confusion. “What is going on here?”

“Nothin’ you need to worry about, boy scout,” Faith says. “Just sit tight for a while.” She catches Buffy’s gaze, taking in the upset look on the blonde’s face. 

“I should do something,” Buffy says worriedly. “I don’t think that she’ll want to talk to me right now, but - ” 

“I’ll go,” Faith says. “Trust me. I’m kinda an expert on troubled teens.”

//

“Yo,” Faith says, pushing Dawn’s door open. “You open for business?”   


Dawn is lying on her bed and she rolls over, glaring at Faith. “Ever hear of knocking?” 

“Once or twice. Not big on it.” 

“Are you here to accuse me of getting everyone stuck in the house? Cause if so, you can go right back downstairs again."

Faith takes a seat on the end of Dawn’s bed. “Nah, I’m not too bothered ’bout that. I’m here to talk to you about the sticky fingers problem.” 

Dawn scrambles into a sitting position, eyes wide. “How did you know - I mean, I haven’t done anything.”

Faith laughs. “Don’t try that one on me, short stack. I’ve been around the cell block a couple times. I know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Right,” Dawn mumbles. “You won’t tell Buffy, will you? Please, Faith. Please don’t.” 

Faith knows that she probably should, but snitching on other people has never really been her brand. Besides, she’s been in Dawn’s position before, so she sympathizes. “No, I won’t tell her, as long as ya take back all the stuff that you’ve stolen.”

“Okay,” Dawn says, her shoulders slumping in relief. “Deal. I will, I promise.”

Faith nods, pleased that she’s handling the situation well. “Sold. Now that the shoplifting thing is outta the way, how about you tell us what the hell you did to get us stuck in the house?”

//

An hour later, Faith finds Buffy on the couch. The party guests are all gone, thanks to Dawn confessing that her guidance counselor had put a spell on them and Anya summoning the counselor in question to break the spell. Apparently counseling was her side job, after being a Vengeance demon. Faith hadn’t really followed the particulars - she’d just been glad to get rid of Richard.

“Hey,” Faith says. “Did Dawn go to sleep?” 

Buffy nods. “Promised her that we’d spend more time together. She seems happier now.”

“Good,” Faith says. “So, how would you rate this birthday?”

“Pretty low,” Buffy admits. “I’ve had worse, though.” 

Faith sticks a hand into her pocket, wishing that she hadn’t worn such tight pants today. “Well, uh, maybe another present will make it better.”

Buffy squints at her adorably. “You got me a present?”   


“Don’t go getting all excited,” Faith says. “Didn’t wrap it or anything, but here.” She pulls out the necklace that she found in town a few days ago, placing it in Buffy’s hands. Buffy studies the necklace, running her fingers along the chain and the tiny sun charm hanging from it. 

God, this was a stupid idea. Faith should have just gotten her a new stake or something. 

“You don’t have to wear it or anything,” she says. “Or I can exchange it, I really don’t - ” 

“Shut up, Faith. I love it.”

Faith smiles, running a hand through her hair. “Good.”

“Put it on for me, will you?” Buffy says. Faith takes the necklace and loops it around Buffy’s neck, gently brushing her wavy blonde hair out of the way. She fastens the clasp and lets her fingers trail gently along Buffy’s skin, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on the back of her neck.

“Happy birthday, B,” she says.

Buffy turns to her, tugging lightly on the necklace chain. “You know what? I changed my mind.” 

“About what?"

“Today. I think this is actually my best birthday so far.”

“Not much competition, right?” Faith asks, and Buffy hits her lightly on the arm, her eyes bright and her lips curved up in a smile. 

//

Faith and Buffy go out patrolling the next night, determined to ignore the demons and monsters and whatever else is lurking in Sunnydale for one night so they can get back to basics and slay some vampires. Faith leaves her knives at home and carries one single stake instead, and she’s surprised at how right it feels.

They hit the cemeteries and the caves, but it’s not until they reach the graveyard at the church that they finally find some decent opponents. There’s a crowd of vamps at the base of one of the tombstones, arguing and passing around a flask of blood.

“Jackpot,” Faith murmurs, already anticipating the fight.

She and Buffy walk up to them, the graveyard well lit by the shiny white glow of the half moon in the sky. Faith can see almost as well as any vamp, even with no night vision.

“Hey guys,” she calls out casually. “Can I get a sip of that blood?”

The vamps stop arguing and charge at them without another word. Faith cracks her knuckles and gets down to business. 

She stakes two vamps before they even know what hit them, casually flicking the dust off of her denim jacket, and revels in the familiarity of it all, the rush of Slaying adrenaline that feels best when she’s destroying vampires. Buffy, whirling around to stab a vamp next to her, actually laughs out loud, and Faith grins. It feels so good to finally be killing something without worrying about its evil master trying to rise from hell while she’s stabbing it.

Faith does a handstand just for the hell of it, flipping her legs up to catch a vamp right under the chin, flinging him back against the wall of the church. Just as she gets upright again and dusts him, her senses start tingling, signaling that something’s wrong.

“Faith,” Buffy yells, pointing to the edge of the graveyard. There’s a group of Asmora demons gathered there, pushing and shoving to get through the iron gate.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Faith says. “The whole point of tonight was so that we wouldn’t have to deal with these fuckers.”

Buffy stakes the last vamp neatly. “Yeah well, I don’t think they got the memo. Watch out, they’re coming in.”

The Asmora demons spread out around the tombstones, trapping Faith and Buffy in a large circle. They start inching closer, claws out, teeth bared.

“Okay, this doesn’t seem ideal,” Faith says. “But hey. Work with what you’re given, I guess.” 

The demons close in, forcing Faith and Buffy into a back-to-back defensive stance, and then they’re too busy slaying to talk.

The fight is quick and messy, the demons going down one after another and splattering the two of them with black blood. Faith is just about to make a wisecrack, something about Asmora demons being like bowling pins, but then Buffy yells in pain and stumbles backwards, hand pressed to her face. Faith grits her teeth and tackles the demon responsible for the damage, slamming it to the ground and stabbing it through the heart.

“You okay?” she asks, rolling off of the demon’s corpse.

Buffy takes her hand away, revealing a bloody gash across her cheek. “Fine.” 

Faith kicks the limp demon body, stepping over it. “Looks kinda bad, B. We should probably get ya home, patch ya up.”

“Just a flesh wound,” Buffy says, but she lets Faith lead her out of the graveyard, leaving the remains of the demons behind. “The real damage will be done when Anya sees what my face looks like now. The wedding’s next week, and me being a bridesmaid and all…”

“If she says a word,” Faith promises, “I’ll make sure Xander is a permanent bachelor.”

//

“What happened to you?” Willow asks frantically as Faith and Buffy crash through the kitchen door. “Buffy, what happened to your face?”

“Asmora demon,” Buffy says through gritted teeth. “It’s not that bad.”

Faith touches her cheek lightly. “You’re dripping blood, B. Looks kinda bad to me.”

“Here,” Willow says, rushing over with a wet paper towel and bandages. She hands Buffy the towel, and Buffy starts wiping the blood away, wincing every time she touches the edge of the cut.

Buffy looks down at her white sweater, now splattered with red drops of blood. “Ah, come on,” she sighs. “I just got this thing washed again.” 

“I’ll - I’ll clean it,” Willow says, looking guilty for some reason. “Here.” She places a bandage over the cut, smoothing it down carefully. 

“Thanks, Will,” Buffy says. “I’m good, okay? Don’t worry.”

“Not - not worrying,” Willow says, her tone very worried. “I’m not. I’m good.” 

Faith yawns widely, covering her mouth. Buffy pokes her in the side. “Hey, go get some sleep. I’ll be fine here.”

“You sure?” Faith asks. 

“Sure,” Buffy sighs. “I’ve already got Willow fussing over me. I don’t need it from you too.”

Faith shakes her head, but goes down to the basement. She falls asleep trying not to worry about Buffy.

//

“Hey,” Dawn says on Saturday. “Will you take me out for ice cream?”

Faith looks up from her bowl of cereal, scanning the kitchen for Willow or Buffy or Tara, but she’s the only one there. She frowns at Dawn, then points to herself. “You talking to me?”

“Uh, do you see anyone else in the kitchen?”

“Alright, alright,” Faith says. “No need to get snippy.” She finishes her cereal and tips her bowl up to drink the remaining milk. “I’ll take you, but you’re paying. I’m unemployed now, remember?”   


//

Faith takes Dawn to the ice cream parlor near UC Sunnydale and they sit at the outdoor tables, Dawn with a chocolate milkshake and Faith with a cigarette. 

Dawn eyes her with mild disgust. “You should quit smoking,” she says. “Those cause lung cancer, you know.”

Faith blows out smoke. “Color me surprised, short stack. You almost sound like you’d mind if I came down with the big C.”

“I would mind,” Dawn mutters. “I don’t want you to die.”

Faith’s eyebrows raise. She’s not quite sure when she got off of Dawn’s shit list, but she’s unexpectedly happy about it. “Well then, I’ll think about quittin’, I guess.” 

Dawn nods, takes another sip of her milkshake.

“So why’d you make me chauffeur for the day?” Faith asks, holding her cigarette between two fingers and letting the smoke drift away in the wind. “B and Willow and Tara too busy?”

Dawn stirs the straw around in her glass. “No, I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m honored. What for?”

“Buffy didn’t look so great this morning,” Dawn said. “I mean, with the cut-up face and everything. It was the Asmora demons, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s just Slayer stuff,” Faith says. “Don’t worry ’bout it.”

“I am worried, though,” Dawn mumbles. “I just - Faith, will you promise me something?” 

Faith tips her head to one side. “What?”

“Will you keep Buffy safe?” 

Faith sinks back into her chair, feels a strange heaviness settle in her chest. She sticks the cigarette in her mouth again just for something to do with her hands. 

“I know that you both can take care of yourselves,” Dawn hastens to explain. “You know, being the Slayers and all. But - but I lost Buffy once before, and I don’t think I can do it again.”

_ Me either, _ Faith wants to say. 

“So will you? Please?” Dawn asks, her eyes hopeful and expectant.

Faith takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” she says. “Yes. I’ll keep her safe. I promise.” 

Dawn smiles in relief and for some reason that she can’t explain, Faith reaches across the table and squeezes her hand for a moment. “Nothing’s gonna happen to her, Dawn.” 

“Huh,” Dawn says. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my actual name.”

Faith swats at the air. “Don’t get used to it, small fry.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dawn grumbles, but she’s smiling slightly as she finishes her milkshake.

As they leave, Dawn tosses her shake cup in the trash can by the door. Faith reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out her pack of cigarettes. She pauses for a moment, then drops them into the trash.

//

Buffy comes down to the basement that night while Faith is doing a workout, and Faith almost falls over in the middle of her plank. It’s the first time Buffy’s been down here since they stopped hooking up.

Faith finds her way to a sitting position. “What’s up?” she asks, noticing the way Buffy’s eyes flick to her stomach and then away again. 

The cut on Buffy’s cheek is still red, but it’s not bleeding anymore, and Faith is glad to see that it looks better. She wishes that she’d killed the demon that did it more slowly. 

“Anya and Xander’s wedding is in a couple days,” Buffy says. 

Faith grimaces. “Talk about a state of unholy matrimony. Won’t be sad to miss that one, I gotta tell ya.”

“Actually - ” Buffy smiles sheepishly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Will you go? With me?”

Faith blinks in surprise. “You want me to go to the wedding with you?”

“Well, not like - I mean - ” Buffy says. “That’s not - I don’t mean like - well, yes. I just want you to be there.” 

“Oh,” Faith says. She quickly weighs the pros and cons of going to the wedding, and decides that Buffy asking her to be there is more than enough incentive to go. “Okay, fine. I’ll go. But I don’t even have a dress.”

Buffy just smiles.

//

Faith shows up to the wedding in a black dress that cost twenty dollars at the thrift store, because she refused to wear any other color, and she thinks that it’s appropriate for the occasion anyways. She’s celebrating the death of her last shreds of respect for Xander and Anya. 

Not that she hates them or anything; she just can’t believe they’re getting married. Marriage never ends well. (Hardly ever.)

Most of the guests are seated already, Xander’s family is on the right side and Anya’s on the left. Faith notices that most of Anya’s family members look distinctly demon-ish. 

“Hey, you,” Buffy says. “You look nice.”

Faith turns to look at her, taking in the billowy green satin dress she’s wearing. “You look nice too. Can’t say the same for that dress, though.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Anya picked it out. Couldn’t exactly say no to the bride.”

“I woulda,” Faith snorts. “That outfit looks like it was rejected by the Goodwill.”

“Well,” Buffy says. “You know exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

Faith hits her shoulder lightly. “C’mon, B. Ya know I’m kidding. The dress is a disaster, but you? You look - ”  _ Beautiful.  _ “Pretty damn good.”

Buffy flashes her a quick smile. “Thanks. I have to go help Anya get ready, but I’ll find you later, yeah?”

Faith leans back against a pillar, not wanting to sit with the demons or Xander’s family. There’s music playing - the orchestra practicing - and she closes her eyes to listen. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s standing there, but she’s brought back to real life when she hears shouting coming from the bar. (That’s how overdone this wedding is - there’s an honest to god wet bar on the side. Then again, Faith can’t blame them. Alcohol might be the only thing that’ll get her through this.)

“A toast,” Xander’s father is yelling, waving his glass drunkenly in the air. “To the circus folk who claim to be related to my son’s bride. To my son, who’s miraculously getting married today. And to my lovely wife.” His voice is heavy with sarcasm.

“Ah, shut up,” a woman in the crowd snaps. “Stop drinking so much.”

“I wouldn’t have to drink so much if you weren’t my wife,” Xander’s father yells, a nasty edge creeping into his voice. He drains his glass and slams it onto the bar, sliding it over to the bartender. “Another one.” 

Faith’s fists clench. This scene is all too familiar to her. It’s like she’s being pulled back in time, hiding behind the couch at seven years old, watching her mother and father drink and fight and trade blows. 

Her chest tightens and her breathing gets shallow. Every instinct in her body is telling her to fight or run, and only one of those is possible right now. She can’t stay here. She can’t do it.

She slips out the front door of the building, the arguing voices of Xander’s parents echoing behind her.

//

Faith ditches the dress as soon as she gets back to the house, changes into ripped black jeans and a washed-out band shirt, and then settles down in the kitchen to make herself a sandwich. There’s an old radio sitting on the shelf above the sink, and she fiddles with the dials until she finds a station that’s playing classic rock songs.

She’s finished the sandwich and is busy washing the plate when she hears the front door open. There’s the sound of someone going up and down the stairs, and a few minutes later, Buffy appears in the kitchen. She’s changed out of her dress into a pair of UC Sunnydale sweatpants and one of Faith’s shirts.

“Hey,” Faith says. “Quick wedding, huh? Where’s everyone else?”

“Out looking for Xander,” Buffy says. “He left Anya at the altar. Tara and Willow took Dawn to see if they could find him.” 

Faith winces in sympathy. “Damn, that blows.”

“Sure does,” Buffy agrees. “So do you want to tell me why you left even earlier than he did?”

Faith tenses up. “Xander’s parents were fighting,” she mutters. “And it just - I don’t know. Brought back bad memories.” 

Buffy’s eyes fill with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Faith says automatically. Then she reconsiders, softens her answer.“Not today. Maybe someday.”

Buffy nods, leaning against the counter. “God, this sucks,” she says. “Xander and Anya were supposed to be my proof that love still exists.”

Faith raises an eyebrow. “If they’re your standard for love, I think you need to raise it.”

Buffy sighs. “No, I know. I just - god, this will sound selfish, but I wanted a night where I could forget about all my problems and worries, just for a little while. I just wanted one night to dance with my friends and remember that something as beautiful as a wedding could still happen.” 

Faith listens as a new song starts playing from the radio, then looks at Buffy - tired but still beautiful, her hair coming undone from the wedding hairdo to fall in messy blonde waves. Before she knows what she’s doing, Faith reaches for Buffy’s hand and pulls her into the middle of the kitchen floor.

“What are you doing?” Buffy asks as Faith rests her hands at the small of her back.

“Dancing,” Faith says. “With you.”

Buffy doesn’t reply, just wraps her arms around Faith’s neck and pulls her closer. They sway slowly to the music, the song sad and yet hopeful, too. 

_ A love like ours is love that’s hard to find...how could we let it slip away? We’ve come too far to leave it all behind… _

Buffy rests her head against Faith’s chest, and Faith feels her heartbeat speed up in response. She doesn’t know what it sounds like to Buffy, but to Faith it’s like each beat is spelling out every feeling that she’s ever had for Buffy.

She’s sure this won’t mean anything when the day ends, or even when the song ends. She’s sure this will be just another thing that they don’t talk about. But for right now, it doesn’t matter.

For right now, Faith lets herself dance under the kitchen lights with Buffy Summers, and for once in her life, she feels like she’s exactly where she should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you leave me now by chicago is, in the words of the legendary alice wu, "the most perfect love song ever," and it's also a perfect faith/buffy song, so i had to use it for that last scene. yes i'm a sucker for kitchen dancing


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little longer than the others and i didn't bother looking it over before posting but so it goes

The Asmora demons keep coming.

Faith and Buffy keep fighting them off. 

They come away with new wounds every time. A scrape, a sprain, a cut. Bruises, spreading across their skin like oil on the surface of water. A few scratches, a couple dislocated bones, even. Still, it’s nothing they can’t handle.

Willow is on hand every night when they come back from patrol, hovering nearby with bandages and antiseptic ointment and god knows what else, looking nervous and inspecting their latest injuries.

“Will, we’re fine,” Buffy says, brushing her away with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry so much. This is what we were born to do.”

She smirks at Faith when she says that, and Faith feels a twinge of satisfaction, remembering the argument that they’d had three years ago. 

_ Slaying is what we’re made for. If you’re not enjoying it, you’re doing something wrong. _

Looks like Buffy has finally taken that to heart.

Willow puts away the first aid supplies, but Faith still catches flashes of worry in the witch’s eyes. Sometimes she also catches flashes of black, just like on the night they found out that Asmodeus was trying to rise. Just like on the night that she found Willow magic-drunk and shaking on the side of the dirtiest street in Sunnydale.

That’s something that scares Faith more than any of the demons they’ve been fighting, but she keeps it to herself. Willow said it was fine, so Faith will continue to believe her.

Sometimes she can sense guilt rolling off Willow like waves in the ocean, but she doesn’t know why. She makes a note to check in with the girl at some point. Then Buffy pulls her out the door for another night on patrol and Faith forgets about Willow altogether.

//

A week after the wedding, Faith dreams of a meadow. 

It’s wide and lush and green, a vast expanse of grass and wheat plants spread out under a clear blue sky. Patches of small-blossomed flowers spring up here and there, adding bright splashes of color to the field. There are birds singing in the distance, and Faith thinks she can hear a river running nearby.

As Faith is standing at the edge of the meadow, taking in the beauty of it all, she senses someone standing with her. She turns her head to see Buffy, dressed simply in blue jeans and a white shirt.

“Hey, B,” Faith says. “Whatcha doing here?”

“I’m not sure,” Buffy replies, and Faith is shocked that she actually answers. Faith had thought this was just a normal dream; now it’s clear that there’s something else going on.

“Do you think this is a - ” 

“Slayer dream? Yeah, probably. Definitely.” 

Faith lets her hand trail over the feathery tops of the meadow grasses. “Well, I’m not seeing any evil demons or empty graves, so that’s a step up from usual.”

Buffy tips her head back, looks up at the perfect blue sky. “It does seem pretty nice for a Slayer dream. Last time I had one…”

Faith blinks quickly. The last time  _ she’d _ had a Slayer dream, it had been because Buffy was dead.

Buffy must pick up on her shift in mood, because she asks, “When I died, did you feel it?”

“Yeah,” Faith says. “Felt like - fuck, I don’t know. Like something was just... _ wrong _ . And I kept dreaming about a tower and a hole in the sky, and you - ” She stops talking, not wanting to relive that nightmare in the slightest.

“Yeah,” Buffy murmurs. “That all happened.” 

“Figured.” 

“Well anyways, dreams like this are usually important. So we must be here for some reason.” 

They start walking through the meadow, pushing their way through the grasses, Faith crushing several flowers under her boots. The smell of newly grown plants fills the air, almost intoxicating in its earthy sweetness.

Any other day, Faith thinks, it would be nice to be here with Buffy. They could bring food, maybe spread a blanket out and have a picnic. (Almost like a date.) And yet she feels an unshakeable sense of foreboding, like there’s darkness hiding somewhere in the beauty of this meadow.

They reach the middle of the meadow, and Buffy turns back to ask Faith a question, her face graced by an easy smile, when the ground starts to shake.

Faith is thrown to the side, stumbling, struggling to keep her balance as the earth cracks and splits beneath her feet. The grass disappears, replaced by dirt, and she and Buffy are sent sinking down into the ground, the surroundings of the meadow replaced by the walls of a shallow pit. The sun disappears behind a dark bank of clouds, day shifting to night in the blink of an eye.

“What the hell is happening?” Faith yells, trying to remind herself that it’s a dream. She glances down at her feet and notices a thick red line beneath them. It looks familiar - too familiar - and her heart sinks. “Oh, fuck. We’re in that stupid crater.”

Ghostly shapes start appearing around them, taking the form of Asmora demons. Faith makes a fist and slams it into one of them, and it goes right through.

“Okay, this is seriously weird,” Buffy says, her voice edged with worry. She slips her hand into Faith’s and Faith squeezes hard, just to reassure herself that she has someone else with her. “But what - ” 

There’s a sound like lightning striking, and Buffy and Faith look up at the top of the crater. A small figure is standing there, surrounded by black swirls of energy, and even from this distance, Faith can tell that the eyes are black. The energy dissipates for a moment, revealing red hair slowly turning to black.

Buffy gasps. “Willow.” 

Willow spreads out her arms, shooting bolts of energy at the Asmora demons, and Faith ducks, even though she knows that they’re not really there. The demons charge up the side of the crater and the sky is streaked with lightning now, thunder booming in the distance. 

Someone screams, and the sound pierces Faith’s ears. She throws her hands up to block it out, and Buffy’s clutching at her, and the whole world is spinning now.

There’s one loud clap of thunder before the world turns black.

//

Faith sits bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat, her heart racing and her muscles tensed. It takes her a moment to realize where she is, and then she yanks on her boots and races up the basement stairs.

She’s halfway to the front door when she runs into Buffy, the two of them colliding with each other and half-falling against the wall. 

“Willow,” Buffy says, her voice panicked. “She’s not in bed.”

Faith understands instantly. “The dream. It was real.”

“We have to go.”

//

The streets are dark and empty, and Faith and Buffy race through them like the wind. In a matter of minutes they’re at the old construction site, and Faith’s fears are confirmed.

The crater is wider now, at least forty feet across, and deeper, too. There’s a crowd of Asmora demons filling it, the red marks on their foreheads glowing like embers, and the pentacle is shining blood red against the darkness.

And Willow is hovering above them, arms outstretched like she’s on the cross, the air around her crackling like it does just before lightning strikes.

"Goddamn,” Faith mutters. “I didn’t know she could fly.” 

The wind picks up, rushing around them, tearing at their clothes. Faith’s hair whips around in the gust, slapping her across the face.

“Willow,” Buffy yells. “Willow, come down.”

Willow turns at the sound of her voice. Unfortunately, the demons do too.

“It’s okay,” Willow yells. “I’ve got a plan. I can end this.” She turns away again and raises her arms like she’s conducting an orchestra. The earth around the crater starts to rise. 

Faith curses under her breath. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”   


“We have to get her down,” Buffy shouts over the sound of the wind. “She’s gonna get herself killed.” 

Willow slashes an arm through the air and a bolt of energy flies down into the crater, blasting aside a knot of demons and turning them to black dust.

“I think she’s taking care of herself pretty well,” Faith mutters. 

“We can’t just leave her there,” Buffy says. She raises her voice again. “Willow, come back. You don’t need to do this."

Faith feels herself slipping forward, and looks down to find that her boots are slipping against the edge of the crater, dirt and rocks caving in as she steps back. The earth is as restless as the wind, crumbling in on itself and sliding towards the bottom of the pit.

Willow screams then, her head rolling back and her body shaking uncontrollably. She turns towards them and Faith sees that her pupils are pure black, nothing but holes in her face. She hangs in the air for a moment and then falls like a stone into the crater, black energy shooting off of her in all directions as she lands with a sickening noise. The demons close in around her, shrieking gleefully.

Buffy jumps forward. “We have to stop them.”

“I’ll get her,” Faith says, throwing out an arm to hold Buffy back. “You stay here. One drop of blood and you resurrect the big bad, remember?”

Buffy slaps her arm away. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving Willow.”

Willow lets out a scream of pain, and that decides it for Faith. “Fine, but be careful.” She takes a deep breath, and she and Buffy slide down the edge of the crater to the bottom. Demons surround them instantly, and Faith throws herself into the fight.

She’s not aware of time passing, or outside noises, or anything besides the crunching of demon bones under her hands. She has no weapons besides herself, but she drives through the hordes of demons like a tornado. She senses Buffy right next to her, carving the same arc of death. 

A demon stabs her in the side, driving a claw through her flesh, and Faith yells in pain and kicks the demon away, doubling over as a sharp pain slices through her. She shoves her way through the last demons, almost tripping over Willow’s limp body. Even though Faith feels like she might black out, she manages to pull Willow upright and sling her arm around her shoulders to support her.

Buffy’s still fighting two demons, one on each side of her, turning in a circle to ward off their attacks. One of them lands a hit to her face, sending her flying backwards. 

“Buffy,” Faith yells, black spots dancing in front of her vision. “I’ve got Willow, let’s go.”

The demons pounce on Buffy while she’s down, one punching her and the other raising his arms to the sky and chanting something in a foul demon language. Buffy struggles, kicking at the demon who’s hitting her, and Faith wants to help, but she thinks that she might be about to pass out.

There’s a snapping noise and the demon goes flying across the crater. Buffy rolls to her feet, her entire face covered in red, blood pouring down her cheek. 

“B, no,” Faith yells, her lungs screaming in protest. “You’re bleeding - ” 

Buffy raises her hand to her cheek, but she’s too late. A drop of blood falls from her face, striking the ground right in the middle of the pentacle.

After that, everything is a blur. 

The earth shakes again, violently this time, tossing them around like treetops in a storm. The pentacle flares against the darkness, and the wind starts howling. Faith feels every hair on her body standing on end. 

“We have to leave,” she yells, dragging Willow towards Buffy. “The blood, the ritual, it’s gonna bring up the demon.” She makes her way painfully up the side of the crater, collapsing onto solid ground and rolling away from the edge.

Then there’s hands on her body, and Buffy is pulling her to her feet. Faith watches as the pentacle starts dissolving, and the ground erupts. There’s an explosion of fire, bright against the night, and she sees someone - something - in the middle of the flames, tall and horrible.

“It’s him,” she says. “He’s rising.”

“We have to stop it,” Buffy yells. “Now. We need to put an end to it before it gets strong, before anyone else gets hurt - ” 

Faith grabs her arm. “We can’t. Willow’s half dead and I’m injured and we’re not strong enough, not right now. We have to go.”

“But it’s my fault,” Buffy shouts, the anguish clear on her face. “He’s rising, and it’s my fault.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Faith manages. “We can kill him later. Right now…”

Buffy looks at Faith then, notices the patch of red spreading across her shirt. “Oh, fuck. Faith, you’re - ” 

“I’m fine,” Faith says faintly. “Let’s just go.”

They sling Willow’s arms over their shoulders and the three of them stumble away from the crater just as the demon in the flames lets out a roar of triumph that Faith thinks shakes the very sky.

//

Tara’s awake when they get back to the house, and she screams at the sight of Willow, black-veined and dark-eyed, leaning limp and boneless against Faith and Buffy’s bodies. Faith releases Willow onto the couch and falls onto the living room floor, too tired to move. 

“What did you do?” Tara whispers to Willow. “Oh, Will. What did you do?”

Faith doesn’t hear Willow’s reply, if there is one. She bends forward, pressing her hand to her side, and lets the room dissolve into blackness. 

The last thing she sees is Buffy leaning towards her, a dried trail of blood tracing the path of a tear down her cheek.

//

Faith opens her eyes slowly to find that she’s sitting on a bed in a vaguely familiar bedroom, leaning back against the headboard. The room is sunny and warm, and the walls are covered in posters. The bed is soft and comfortable, and Faith is still tired, so she starts to close her eyes again.

“Hey, don’t go passing out on me again,” says a voice to her left, and Faith sees that Buffy is sitting next to the bed, slouched in one of those spinning office chairs.

“Fuck,” Faith says, her voice scratching in her throat like the sound of sandpaper. “How long was I out?”

“About four hours,” Buffy says. “I was starting to get a little worried. Can you get up?”

“I’d rather not, but yeah, I can move.”

Buffy pats the bed. “Just slide over here so I can fix you up a little.” She reaches for a box of medical supplies next to her, and it’s only then that Faith realizes she’s still wearing a blood-soaked shirt and her ribs are aching. She slowly moves over until she’s sitting at the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side.

Buffy tips some kind of liquid antiseptic onto a gauze bandage. “Take off your shirt.”

“Alright, B,” Faith grins. “I get stabbed by a demon and suddenly you’re trying to get me naked, is that it?”

“Shut up,” Buffy huffs. “You’re intolerable.” She gently pulls Faith’s shirt up, revealing a deep wound, and starts dabbing the blood away with a wet towel. Faith hisses as the cut starts stinging. 

“That shit hurts,” she mumbles. 

Buffy wraps the bandage around Faith’s stomach, bringing the ends together and neatly taping them in place. “Yeah well, it’ll hurt more if I don’t take care of it now, so suck it up.”

Faith inhales sharply, partly from the pain and partly because Buffy is so close to her now that Faith can see the faint freckles on the bridge of her nose. There’s a strand of hair falling into Buffy’s eyes, and Faith reaches out to tuck it behind her ear. Blame it on being loopy from the pain, but she can’t help it.

“You had me worried,” Buffy says softly. 

“Don’t fuss over me,” Faith says lightly. “I’m like a cat.” 

“Scrawny, annoying, makes me sneeze?”

“I was thinking more like  _ I got nine lives _ , but that too.” 

Buffy smiles, her hands smoothing out the bandage still, and Faith savors the light touch of Buffy’s skin against her own; soft and gentle, with the kind of faint electrical charge that only contact with Buffy can bring. “I’m just saying. Don’t push it for a little bit.”

“Got it,” Faith says. For a second, sitting there in the sunlit room with Buffy, she feels like everything is right in the world.

And then she remembers. 

“Is Willow okay?” she asks. 

Buffy’s face falls, and Faith feels a sense of dread sweeping over her. Suddenly her side hurts more than ever.

//

Now newly cleaned and bandaged, Faith taps on the door of the room that used to belong to Joyce Summers. Tara opens it, her face lined with worry and her eyes circled by dark smudges. She steps aside to let Faith in.

“How is she?” Faith asks quietly.

Tara shakes her head. “Not doing great.”

Willow is stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, hair a tangled mess of red curls. Her face is pale and her veins are still blackened in places, showing right through the skin. Faith swallows hard, reminded of the way her mother used to look when she was passed out drunk on the floor.

Tara sits down next to Willow’s still body and strokes her forehead gently. “I don’t know what kind of magic she was getting into, but it’s dangerous. It’s the kind that can take over whoever’s using it.”

Faith slips a hand under her shirt, tugs at her bandages. She’s overwhelmed with guilt suddenly, wondering if she could have stopped this if she’d just told Tara that Willow was messing with dark magic.

“Is she going to be okay?” 

There’s a hint of uncertainty on Tara’s face. “I think she will. I just don’t - don’t know exactly how to fix this. How to fix her.”

“You’ll find a way,” Faith says. “Magic, right?”   


“Yeah,” Tara says. “Magic.”

“Look,” Faith admits. “I knew she was into something. She busted into my mind, did this phone a friend thing and called me over to help her when she went on a magic trip a few weeks ago. Probably shoulda told you or B, but she said that she’d be fine, that she’d figure it out. And she said that she was going to use the power to help Buffy, so I didn’t argue.”

Tara looks like she’s about to cry. “I should - I should have figured it out. Should have stopped her. I’m a witch, I should have been able to - to detect all that power, but I just wasn’t looking for it. I never thought she would - would do something like this, even for the right reasons.”

“Yeah,” Faith says quietly. “Well, guess we’re all short-sighted when it comes to someone we love.” Her mind flashes to Buffy before she can stop it. “I should probably let you, ya know.” 

“Faith?” Tara calls out as Faith starts to close the door behind her. “Thanks for - for trying to help.”

Faith doesn’t feel like she’s helped at all, but she just nods and lets the door drift closed with a quiet click.

//

It’s a subdued Scooby gang that meets at the Magic Box a day later to discuss the new threat. Faith looks around the room and she isn’t encouraged by what she sees. 

Willow’s awake finally, but she’s slumped in a chair and looks ready to fall unconscious again at any moment. Tara’s nodding in exhaustion, like she hasn’t slept for forty eight hours - because she hasn’t, Faith realizes. Dawn’s expression is bleak and her hands are fidgeting with a display necklace on the shelf next to the table. Buffy’s no longer covered in blood, but her face is still mottled with bruises. Anya lurks behind the counter, eyes red, looking as fragile as glass, and Xander is nowhere to be found.

And then there’s Faith herself, her injury still too sore to allow her to sit on the counter like usual, sitting on the floor with her back against the front display case.

Faith thinks that she’s seen cheerier faces in prison.

“Alright,” she says loudly. “So the big bad demon rose, and now we gotta deal with it. Any ideas?”

Anya presses random buttons on the cash register, ringing up about a thousand dollars worth of inventory. “Why don’t we just let him kill us?” she asks, her tone completely apathetic. “Is it even worth living, anyway? I mean, he’s risen already, so we may as well let him go ahead and end the world like he wants to. At least one person would get what they wanted out of life.”

“Hey, demon lady, knock off the Debbie Downer attitude, will ya?” Faith says, irritated. 

Anya slams the register door shut with a screech of metal. “If you didn’t want Asmodeus to rise, then why did you let Willow do it?”

“Hey,” Tara protests. “It - it wasn’t her.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t trying to raise him,” Willow said. “I was trying to - to shut down the pentacle before he  _ could _ rise. I was trying to help.”

“And how well did that turn out?”

“Hey,” Buffy snaps. “Enough.”

Amazingly, the room falls silent. Buffy stands, pacing back and forth in front of the sales counter. 

“Listen, I know that right now, things seem hopeless,” she says. “We’re in terrible shape, all of us, and we have no plan yet. But for the first time in months, when I think about the prospect of dying - again - I’m actually scared. I actually mind. I don’t want to die anymore, and I don’t think any of you do either. So I’m asking, one more time, for your help in defeating this thing.” 

Faith feels her insides knotting up.  _ Buffy didn’t mind the thought of dying. Buffy wasn’t scared to die. Buffy wanted to die again… _

_ But she doesn’t anymore. _

Willow raises her hand, still pale and weak, but defiant as well. “I’ll help. This is mostly my fault anyways. I - I need to make it right.”

“You can’t do any more magic,” Tara says firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“What? What - no, I can’t just quit - ” 

“Tara’s right, Will,” Buffy says. “It’s not safe. We have no idea what that magic might do to you. You could go all dark again. We can’t risk that.”

Willow sighs, her head dropping in defeat. “Okay. I’ll just - stick with the research.”

Tara pats her hand. “I’ll help.” 

“Good,” Buffy says, giving them a look of approval. “You guys, hit the books again. Dawn, help them if you can. Anya - do you have any demon connections that might help? You know, friends of friends, old victims, anyone who might know something about how to take down Asmodeus?”

Anya heaves a sigh of indifference, studying her fingernails. “I guess I can look into it,” she says at last. “Not that it really matters.”

“Just try it,” Buffy says. “We need all the help we can get. And Faith - ” 

“Yeah?”

“You’re with me.”

Buffy’s words are resolute but her eyes tell a different story; she looks to Faith like she’s searching for an answer, a reassurance that Faith really is by her side. Faith grins back at her. “Always, B. We’re five by five.”

“Right, then,” Buffy says. “You guys start on the research. Faith and I will be training if you need us.” Faith gets the hint, follows Buffy up the steps and past the fake door into the training room.

Buffy stands in front of the weapons wall, running her finger over the edges of the blades. “Do you think that went well?”

“As well as it coulda gone, yeah.”

“God,” Buffy says. “I’ve never wanted to be the one who makes the speeches and organizes the long term plans and...and everything. All I want to do is be the Slayer.”

Faith picks a throwing star off the board, whipping it across the room to stick perfectly in the center of a target. “And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Buffy agrees, “with no idea what I’m doing, no real plan, and a feeling that I’m going to be the reason we don’t beat the big bad this time. I hope this is what Giles wanted, because it’s sure as hell not what  _ I _ wanted.” 

“Fuck that,” Faith says, reaching for another star. She turns it in her hand, letting its deadly edge catch the light, before throwing it to stick next to its counterpart. “You’ve gotten this far, haven’t you? And we haven’t needed him yet.”

Buffy looks thoughtful. “It’s almost relieving that Asmodeus is finally risen, as horrible as that sounds. I was getting sick of worrying about it all the time, wondering if today would finally be the day they got me.”

“I know what you mean. It’s not the threat that concerns ya, it’s the uncertainty.” 

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Faith finds a roll of tape on one of the work benches, starts wrapping strips around her hand out of habit. When she’s done, she tosses the tape to Buffy. 

“What’s this for?”

Faith gestures towards the center of the room. “Spar a little?”

Buffy gives her a stern look. “You’re still injured, Faith.”

“So we’ll take it a little easy. Come on, you know you want to. Best way to relieve stress in the world - well,  _ second _ best.” Faith quirks an eyebrow, but Buffy isn’t taking the bait.

“Fine.” Buffy wraps her hands quickly. “But don’t overdo it.”

Faith just waves her hand dismissively and motions for Buffy to bring it. Buffy steps closer and puts her hands up, ready for battle, and Faith readily lets herself sink into the familiarity of it all, the temporary simplicity that it brings.

They start trading blows, slow at first and then speeding up until they’re sparring properly. Faith’s side aches a little bit, but it’s more than worth it. 

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” Buffy asks, aiming a kick towards Faith’s face.

Faith grabs Buffy’s leg and uses the momentum to pull Buffy in, holding her and dipping her like an ice dancer preparing for a lift. “Yeah, B. I think we will.”

//

They don’t patrol for a few days. 

They sit tight in the house with stacks of books, poring over ancient pages, looking for anything that might give them an edge. Even Faith finds herself looking through a couple texts, not that she finds anything useful.

“This is a waste of time,” she says after a couple nights of research, throwing a book across the room in frustration. Willow just sighs and turns a page, ignores her. 

“I mean,” Faith says, “maybe we should go out there and find him. Take the fight to him, you know?”

Buffy narrows her eyes. “We need to know what we’re dealing with first.”

“We do know,” Faith argues. “Giant flaming evil demon. Done deal.”

Willow drops a book on her face, groaning. “Has Anya found any information at all?”

“Not a word,” Faith says irritatedly. “She ain’t even been around here since we saw her at the magic shop. For all we know, she’s fucked off to Hawaii or something, left us to deal with the demon alone.”

There’s a crash from the front of the house and everyone whips around, looking for the source of the noise. Faith hears Dawn gasp in surprise.

Xander’s standing in the front hall, hair wet and messy and plastered to his head, coat dark with spots of rain. It’s the first time Faith’s seen him since the wedding. Judging by the looks on Dawn and Willow’s faces, she’s not the only one. 

“Xander,” Buffy says. “You’re back?”

“I’m back,” Xander agrees. “There’s trouble downtown.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Xander bunches up a corner of his jacket, wringing it out like a washcloth. Water drips to the floor, and Faith finds herself watching the drops slowly fall through the air to splash against the wooden boards. “Well,” he says. “How does a twelve foot tall fiery demon smashing houses work for you?”

//

Asmodeus is halfway down Main Street when Faith and Buffy arrive on the scene. There are screaming people fleeing in every direction, and random patches of fire spreading across the street. 

Faith pauses, shields her eyes with her hand and stares up at the demon. He’s not as tall as Xander said, but he’s still pretty big - nine or ten feet, with arms and legs like tree trunks. He shimmers with fire, like he’s made of embers. As Faith watches, the demon slams a hand through the wall of a building, smashing through like it’s made of paper, the top of the building starting to smoke.

“How do we fight that?” Faith says. “What’s the plan?”

“Working on a plan,” Buffy says. “We need to get his attention, distract him from destroying any more buildings.”

Faith frowns. “Yeah, alright.” She pulls the crossbow from her back, mentally congratulating herself for thinking to bring it, and nocks an arrow. Squinting along the sight of the shaft, she lines up a shot and lets loose.

The arrow hits its mark perfectly and Asmodeus roars and swings around, trying to find the thing that stung him. He catches sight of Faith and Buffy and starts for them. 

“Well, we got his attention,” Faith says. “And now?”

Buffy stretches out her arms, interlocks her fingers, braces her hands against each other. “Now we fight.”

Then Asmodeus is on them, swinging at them with fiery fists. Faith ducks a blow, feeling the heat of the flames as the demon’s hand flies by her ear. She kicks him in the leg, and it’s like kicking a tree.

Faith jumps up and slams the demon in the face, the skin on her hand cracking as she makes contact. Asmodeus staggers backwards for a moment, but it’s only temporary.

Buffy throws a punch but the demon is ready for it this time. He grabs Buffy’s arm and yanks, sends her flying across the street to crash through a store window. Then he backhands Faith so hard that she sees stars. She kicks out at him, half-blinded, spitting out blood. 

“Pathetic,” the demon says, his voice deep and rumbling. “Is this the best that the Slayer can do? You’ve come down a long way since the one who imprisoned me in hell.”

Faith shakes her vision clear. “Don’t get used to the view aboveground, flame boy. You’re going right back down there.”

Asmodeus hits her again and Faith takes the blow head on because she knows it’ll leave him open for a second. She pulls a knife out of her jacket and stabs the demon in the spot where his heart should be. He howls, taking a step back, sweeping an arm out to shove Faith to the ground. She rolls away from him to avoid the kick of his clawed feet. 

“Faith!” Buffy yells, and Faith looks to the shattered window of the store on her left. Buffy is standing on the sidewalk now, holding a fire extinguisher. She pulls the trigger, sends a cloud of white-grey fog at the demon, and he hisses and falls back.

Buffy runs over to Faith, still brandishing the extinguisher. “Are you okay?”

“Five by five,” Faith groans. “Just lying down for a quick rest.”

“This is not over,” Asmodeus roars from somewhere within the extinguisher fog. “All this I have done with only a fraction of my true power. I will find you again when I am fully risen, and then I will tear you apart and cast you into the flames of hell.” There’s a burst of flames, and when the fog clears again, the demon is gone.

Faith sits up. “He ditched?”   
  
“For now.” Buffy surveys the ruined street, taking in the damage. “Still, at least we know what works against him now.”

Faith shakes her head. “Somehow I doubt a fire extinguisher is gonna kill that bastard. Slowed him down for a bit, that’s all. You heard what he said?”

“About fully rising? Yeah. Not exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to hear.”

Sirens start wailing in the distance, and the screams of people still standing on the edges of the street start to filter back into Faith’s hearing. Fires are still flickering all along the street, and there are shards of glass and scraps of wood littering the sidewalk.

Buffy cocks an ear to the sirens. “That’s probably our cue to leave.”

“Agreed,” Faith says. “I’d rather go another round with the flaming asshole demon than deal with the cops, ’specially when everything looks like this.” She flings out an arm to indicate the wholesale destruction in front of them.

They walk away from Main Street with the sounds of sirens still ringing in their ears, battered and bruised from the fight, and Faith thinks of what she said to Buffy just a few days earlier.

_ Do you think we’ll be okay? _

_ Yeah, I think we will. _

She had believed those words when she was speaking them, but now that she’s walking home with new wounds after getting her ass handed to her by the big bad, she’s starting to doubt whether or not she was right.

//

“He said that a Slayer was responsible for putting him in hell?” Willow asks. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure,” Faith replies, pressing an ice pack to her face. “He compared us to her. Unfavorably, I gotta say. Why?”

Willow starts looking through a stack of books on the coffee table. “If we can find a record of that Slayer’s achievements or something, then maybe - maybe we could figure out how she did it.”

“Don’t think there are any Slayer records,” Buffy comments. “Unless you count the little drawings my mom used to put on the fridge years ago whenever I killed another vampire.” 

“No,” Willow says frustratedly. “I - I’m sure there was a volume somewhere in the Magic Box. If I could just go there, maybe do a quick find spell - ” 

Tara enters the room, her normally calm expression fierce and angry. “Will,  _ no _ . I told you, no more magic. It’s not safe.” 

“Neither is having a hell demon destroying Sunnydale,” Willow snaps. Faith blinks in surprise; she’s barely ever seen Willow lose her temper at all, much less at Tara. 

“Guys, please,” Dawn says in a pleading tone. “Don’t fight. Things are already bad enough.”

Tara and Willow exchange looks. “Sorry, Dawnie,” they say in unison. 

“I’m going to the magic shop,” Willow says firmly. “Even if I can’t do any spells, I can still look for that book. I know I saw it once before. I  _ know _ it.” 

“All that magic stuff,” Tara says, looking doubtful. “What if you’re tempted?”

“I - I won’t be.”

“She won’t be,” Faith agrees. “Cause I’ll go with her. Keep her honest.” She winks at Tara, who only looks a little bit reassured.

Dawn snorts. “You, keeping someone honest?” The corner of her mouth twitches, and Faith can tell that the kid’s not being totally serious. Part of her likes that Dawn feels comfortable enough to joke with her now. The other part of her hates that there’s more than a grain of truth to the jokes.

“Yeah, me,” Faith says, tousling Dawn’s hair a little more roughly than she would have done with Buffy. “Time goes by, Will. Let’s roll.”

//

The Magic Box is locked, its windows dark, and Anya is nowhere to be seen. Before Willow can start kicking up a fuss about doing some kind of unlocking spell, Faith plucks two bobby pins from the witch’s hair and inserts them into the lock.

“Hey,” Willow says indignantly, hands flying to her head. “That hurt.”

“Sorry,” Faith mumbles. “We gotta get in somehow.” There’s a small clicking noise, and the door swings open. 

Willow snatches her bobby pins back. “Do I even want to know why you know how to do that?”

Faith raises an eyebrow. “I went to prison for murdering someone and you’re surprised that I can pick a lock? Skewed priorities, dude.”

“Right,” Willow mumbles. “I almost forgot.”

“Lucky you,” Faith replies, wishing that she could forget so easily. Sometimes it almost feels like she can, but other times the memories of all the things she’s done start to crowd her mind like snowflakes in Boston’s winter sky.

“Well, it’s just not the same anymore. You’re a different person now.” Willow walks past her, into the store, leaving Faith to wonder if Willow’s not the only one who feels that way.

Faith reaches for the light switch and flicks it on, letting the soft yellow lights overhead brighten up the room. Absently, she wonders where Anya is right now, and why she’s abandoned her precious shop. Either the chick is out trying to get help or she’s skipped town while she still can. Faith suspects that it’s probably the second one. 

Willow stops in front of the ladder leading up to the book loft, tipping her head sideways in an attempt to read the spines of the books. “I’m sure it was up there somewhere. A summoning spell would only take a second - ” 

“Save it, Will,” Faith says. She grabs the rails of the ladder and vaults upwards, landing in the loft with a single jump. “I got ya.”

Willow sighs, but doesn’t argue. Faith starts poking through the bookshelf without really knowing what she’s looking for.

“What did that Slayer book look like?” she calls down to the floor. 

“Uh…” Willow puts a hand to her chin in thought. “Really old. Yellow-y pages. Kind of smelled like dust and Earl Grey tea, but I think that might have been Giles’ fault.” 

Faith dumps the shelf over, sending books cascading across the floor of the loft. “That basically describes every book here. Got anything else to go on?” Her fingers brush over mildewed covers and water stained pages, and then she feels a tingle. Willow’s saying something else, but it doesn’t register; Faith is putting all her attention into the source of the feeling.

It’s light, almost ticklish, buzzing in her veins like a faint current of electricity. Like her Slayer sense. Faith closes her eyes, sifts her hands through the books in search of the one that’s calling her.

“Uh, Faith?” Willow says as Faith pushes a few books over the edge of the loft floor. “Watch where you’re chucking the books. Some of those are very old and valuable…”

Faith doesn’t listen to her, just keeps pushing her hands around in the pile of books until she lands on one with what feels like a battered leather cover. She opens her eyes to see that she’s holding a book with at least a thousand pages, the spine warped and peeling, the pages stained a golden yellow.

She doesn’t think she’s ever said this about a book before, but something about the old volume calls to her, like it belongs to her. Like it’s part of her, even.

“Got it,” Faith says. She tucks the book under one arm and launches herself out of the loft without bothering to use the ladder this time, turning a neat flip and landing on her feet.

“Are you sure?” Willow asks. Faith hands the book over a little reluctantly, and Willow starts leafing through the pages. Clouds of dust start flying up, making Faith sneeze.

Willow drifts over to the table and sits down, still flipping through the pages. Faith looks around for something to use as a tissue, with no success.

“Does it say anything useful?” Faith says hopefully.

“Hard to tell yet. It’s written in English but there’s this cursive sort of font that’s really tough to read. This must have been written by a Watcher.” Willow squints at the page. “Okay, I - I think I got something.” 

Faith leans over her shoulder, looking at the drawing under Willow’s pointing finger. It shows a slanting tower rising into the air. Even though it’s nothing but an ink drawing, Faith feels a strange sense of foreboding at the sight of the tower.

Willow taps the page. “This is a satanic temple of some kind. It got buried when Asmodeus was sent to hell, so they must be connected somehow.” She keeps reading, eyes scanning the page like lasers. “‘The temple contains the dark energies of the void...has enough power to drain the world...was once the source of power of Asmodeus, dread demon of the night...can only be raised at high noon on the spring solstice.’ If it was his power source before, then he’ll definitely be trying to raise it again.”

“Great,” Faith says. “That’s just peachy. Any idea when this solstice thing is?”

“That’s the third week of March, so…” Willow does a quick calculation on her fingers. “In five days.”

“Workin’ on a deadline. Alright.” 

“There’s something more here about Asmodeus,” Willow says. “Where did that other book go, the one where we first figured out that he was our big bad?”

“Beats me,” Faith says. “Figured you brought it back to the house or something.”

Willow reaches for the shelf behind the table and pulls another book out from the bottom of it. She opens it and sets the two books side by side, comparing something. Faith fidgets impatiently, jumping up on the counter to sit and then letting herself slide right off again. “Well?” she asks.

“Well,” Willow murmurs. “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Good news first?”

“Good news - there’s a way to reverse Asmodeus’s ascension from hell.”

Faith tries not to trip over the word  _ ascension,  _ tries to shove back the memories that come along with it. “Sounds pretty good to me,” she says. “What’s the bad news?”

Willow turns a little pale. “The fact that the only way to reverse it - besides killing the demon - is to kill the person whose blood resurrected him. That means we would have to kill - ” 

_ Buffy.  _

“No,” Faith says immediately. “We won’t.”

“I know,” Willow says. “ I’m - I’m just saying - ” 

“Well, don’t,” Faith says, cutting her off. "Look, why did you start messing with that dark magic shit in the first place?"

Willow looks down. "I wanted to have enough power to help...I wanted to protect Buffy."

"Exactly. That's what I'm trying to do now," Faith says. "You can’t even tell Buffy about this. Got it? There’s no way she won’t at least consider doin’ what she thinks is the right thing and sacrificing herself to stop this. And I won’t let that happen. Not again. Never again.” 

“Okay,” Willow says. “We won’t tell her.” 

Faith gives her a quick nod. “Good. If that’s all there is, we should probably get back.”

Willow starts to gather up the books, and Faith motions for her to put them down again. “Leave that shit here, Will. We can’t let Buffy find out about...ya know.” 

Willow puts the books back on the shelf behind a display of crystal balls, and they head out.

“Hey,” Willow says as Faith locks the door behind them. “When did you start calling me Will?”

“Dunno,” Faith shrugs. “Guess it just sorta started sticking.” 

She half expects Willow to call her out, to tell her that it’s a nickname only for her friends to use, but Willow doesn’t. Instead she gives Faith a half smile - a quick one, it’s true, but a smile nonetheless.

//

Faith and Willow update the rest of the gang that night, sitting at the table with plates of spaghetti. Willow runs them through the whole  _ raising a satanic temple to go with the demon that’s already risen  _ deal, and Faith tries not to twitch at the mention of the ritual. 

Buffy sets her elbows on the table, her food forgotten. “Five days? You’re sure?”

“Unfortunately,” Willow replies. “Trust - trust me, I’d love to be wrong. But this temple is going to rise whether we like it or not.”

“And I think we all know where it’s going to rise,” Xander says from his place at the end of the table. “That damn crater. Formerly known as the Northstar construction site.” He heaves a long sigh. “I’m never gonna get to finish that contract, am I?”

“You will,” Buffy says. “Once we defeat Asmodeus.”

There’s a loud banging on the front door. Before any of them can get up to open it, the door opens to reveal Anya.

“Hi,” she says. “I knocked.” 

“Yeah, for about a millisecond,” Dawn says. “And then you let yourself in.”

Buffy frowns. “You know, someday you’re going to learn the rest of human etiquette.” 

Anya doesn’t bother to reply, because at that moment she catches sight of Xander. Her posture goes rigid. “What is he doing here?”

“He’s helping to come up with a plan to fight off the evil demon from hell who wants to end the world,” Xander says pointedly. “Care to join, or would you like to run off instead?”

“Oh, because you’re the expert on running off,” Anya snaps. Xander’s ears turn bright red, and Faith grins. The girl is kind of growing on her.

“Guys,” Buffy says. “Focus.” 

Anya stomps a foot. “I’m here to tell you all what’s going to happen. Asmodeus is planning to raise this weird temple thing in that crater outside of town, which is probably good because it’s a terrible location for real estate otherwise, and - ” 

“We know all of that,” Buffy says. “Thanks. What matters now is, will you stay and fight with us?”

Anya hesitates, her gaze flicking between Xander and the door, and then she lets out an exaggerated sigh and takes off her coat, throwing across the back of the sofa. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Okay, then,” Buffy says. “Time to come up with a plan.” 

Buffy starts outlining ideas for what they’re going to do on the solstice. Faith notices how the group listens carefully, how Buffy commands their attention with ease and gives no sign of discomfort. Faith thinks back to what Giles said about Buffy -  _ Buffy will find the right path _ \- and knows that she's found it.

//

The next four days are filled with planning and training. Faith spends half her days sparring with Buffy and the other half helping Willow, Xander, Tara, and Anya brush up on their fighting skills. Dawn tags along too, and Faith helps her learn despite Buffy’s insistence that she won’t be coming to the crater with them.

“I need to learn anyway,” Dawn argues. “I’m the sister of a Slayer. I should know how to hold my own in a basic fight.”

Faith doesn’t agree with her when Buffy’s within earshot, but she gives Dawn a knife and teaches her how to throw a decent punch. She figures that Dawn’s coming along whether Buffy lets her or not, so the least Faith can do is send her in prepared.

After four days of trying to formulate a complex plan, they realize that there’s no way it’s going to work out, so Buffy comes up with something else. 

“Are you ready for this?” she asks over dinner on the fifth night. “Here’s my new plan. We kill the demon, we stop the temple from rising.”

Anya pokes at the food on her plate. “That seems very simple. I think that it leaves a lot of opportunities for things to go wrong and kill us.”

“Probably,” Faith says. “But do you have a better idea?”

The table falls silent after that, and Buffy flashes Faith a quick look of - well, Faith’s not quite sure what. Partly gratitude, partly exasperation. 

“Well, it’s all happening tomorrow,” Xander says, reaching for the pizza box and dumping the remaining five slices onto his plate. “May as well have my last meal.”

Faith, Buffy, Willow all reach over at the same time to snatch a slice away from him, leaving him with only two pieces. Faith shoves her slice into her mouth and watches Dawn and Tara laughing at the look on Xander’s face, and she feels a sort of soft feeling washing over her.

Buffy catches her eye from across the table and smiles, and Faith smiles back before quickly looking down at her plate. 

She really hopes that no one dies tomorrow.

//

After dinner, when it’s almost midnight, Faith doesn’t go down to the basement. Instead she climbs the stairs to the second floor, drawn by an indescribable force. It’s like there’s something in her that’s searching for its way home.

She stops outside Buffy’s door, raises her hand to knock, pauses. 

“Come in,” Buffy's voice calls, before Faith has even touched the door. She smiles and pulls it open a crack, squeezing through the narrow gap.

“Hey, B,” Faith says, sitting down on the end of the bed and spreading herself out so that she’s taking up half the room. Buffy rolls her eyes but there’s no real feeling behind it. “How’d ya know it was me?”

“All the sane people are asleep already,” Buffy says. “Who else would be knocking on my door at a time like this?”

Faith stretches out even further across the bed. “Ya think we’re going to be okay tomorrow?”

“I think so,” Buffy says. Her confident leader facade is gone now, leaving only an expression of worry. “I just - what if something goes wrong and someone gets hurt or the world ends and it’s my fault?”

“Hey,” Faith says, reaching out to shove Buffy’s leg. “We’re going to be fine.”

“I hope so,” Buffy says.

“I  _ know _ so,” Faith replies. “C’mon, B. Have a little faith.”

Buffy smiles at her. “I do.”

“Oh, come on,” Faith says, realizing she’s just walked herself into the punchline of a joke. “That was terrible.”   


“But you’re still laughing, aren’t you?” Buffy grins for a moment, then her expression turns more serious again. “Hey Faith. Thanks for being here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the end of the world,” Faith cracks.

“Really, though,” Buffy says softly. “Thank you. I don’t think I would be able to do this - any of this - without you.” There isn’t a single trace of uncertainty in her voice, and the steadiness of her conviction is like an anchor. 

Faith closes her eyes and lets those words sink in, wanting to stay right here in this moment for the rest of her life. She’s waited four years to hear this from Buffy.  _ Four years. _

For the first time ever, she thinks the wait makes it that much sweeter.

“I should probably go get some sleep,” she says at last. “Can’t kill demons running on less than eight hours, ya know.” She starts to get up, but Buffy puts a hand out to stop her. 

“Would you, uh,” Buffy says. “Can you just - stay here?”

“Oh,” Faith says. “Sure.” She reaches for Buffy’s desk chair. It’s probably not going to be the most comfortable way to sleep, but if Buffy wants her here, she’s not going anywhere.

“No,” Buffy says, shaking her head. “I mean,  _ here _ .” 

Faith thinks she must be hearing things - surely she’s hallucinating or dreaming or something, because this can’t be real life - but now Buffy is shifting over on the bed to make room for her and pulling back the covers to let her in. Faith gets into the bed slowly, sure that she’s going to wake up from this dream at any moment. 

Buffy turns off the lamp beside her bed so that the only light in the room is the dim moonlight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The bed is comfortable, but Faith can’t relax. They’re lying close but still not touching, and it’s all she can do not to let Buffy hear her racing heartbeat. 

Buffy rolls over so that she’s pressed up against Faith, and every bit of resolve that Faith had disappears. She lets herself lean into the touch, lets her body soften against Buffy’s, and shifts around until they’re lying in each other’s arms. 

Faith is twenty years old and this is the first time she’s ever truly been held, and she thinks this might be the closest she’s ever been to someone else, in any sense of the word. 

And there’s nowhere else in the world that she’d rather be.

Buffy’s breathing deepens, sliding away into a sleep rhythm already. Faith takes a deep breath and allows her own eyes to close.

When she wakes up, Buffy is still there. Faith looks at her sleeping form, blonde hair spreading across the pillow, still curled up against Faith’s side, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, the time’s for a change.

//

The sun is just starting to climb in the sky when everyone assembles in the kitchen the next morning. Willow hands out plates of pancakes, and Faith takes three stacks and drowns them in syrup. She’s halfway through the second stack when she realizes that no one else is eating more than a few bites.

Well, that just means more for her. She’s not about to potentially die on an empty stomach.

Buffy watches with an impatient expression as Faith piles more syrup on top of her pancakes. Faith pulls the fork out of her mouth. “What?”

“When you’re done drowning your pancakes, come help me with the weapons.”

Faith shoves down one more mouthful of pancake and follows Buffy into the living room, waits as she opens the weapons chest and starts passing things to her. Faith takes the weapons and sets them on the sofa.

“Don’t give Dawn any of these,” Buffy says. “She’s not coming.”

Dawn walks in at that moment, eating a pancake. “Oh hey. Weapons?”

“Weapons,” Faith confirms. “Here.” She holds out a long knife with a wickedly sharp edge and Dawn takes it from her without hesitation, eyes gleaming. 

“Faith, what did I just say?”

“Don’t try to argue, Buffy,” Dawn says. “I’m coming with you.”

Buffy looks at Faith sharply, and Faith just shrugs. “Hey, you heard the pipsqueak. I’m not arguing.”

“Fine,” Buffy sighs. “But if you get killed, I’m disowning you.”

Willow and Xander file into the room and start looking through the weapons on the couch. Buffy turns to Faith. “I’m guessing you want a knife too?”

Faith bends down next to her, pushing aside stakes and daggers and what looks like a can of mace. There’s a shine of silver underneath a coil of rope, and she pushes the rope aside to reveal a long sword, double-edged and wrapped with red leather at the hilt. It fits her hand perfectly.

“Nah,” Faith says, admiring the instrument of destruction in her grip. “I think I’ve outgrown knives.”

//

They cross the town and get to the former construction site half an hour before noon. Despite the lateness of the day, the streets are quiet, empty. It feels like the entire town is holding its breath. 

The crater is deeper than ever, a sharp ten-foot drop to a floor of packed-down dirt, the blood pentacle at the bottom shining as bright as ever. There are Asmora demons scattered around the edge of the crater, their numbers thankfully smaller than before, and there’s a wide black stone about a foot tall poking out of the dirt in the center of the pentacle. 

And Asmodeus is there, standing next to the stone, his back to them and his arms raised. The flames around him are brighter than the sun above them.

Buffy signals for everyone to stop at the edge of the crater. They line up on either side of her, weapons at the ready, faces bright with determination. Faith stands between Buffy and Willow, sword in hand. 

It’s as she looks at the others standing beside her - Dawn, Tara, Anya, even Xander - that she realizes what’s happening. She’s standing with Buffy and the Scoobies, in line with them, in alliance with them. 

As one of them.

Faith can’t help but smile to herself. Sure, they’re about to fight to the death with a demon from hell, but she’s finally been accepted, and that’s worth something. 

“Alright,” Buffy says, gripping her battle axe in her hand. “Willow, Xander, Tara, Dawn. Handle the Asmora demons. Whatever you do, stick to the edges. Don’t come anywhere near Asmodeus. Got it?”

Xander and Willow share a quick look with Buffy, and Faith can’t read the emotions flashing between them. They’ve always shared a bond that she’s never quite understood, but she’s not jealous anymore. Not today.

Buffy looks to Faith then. “Faith?”

“With you,” Faith confirms. 

“Okay then,” Buffy says, holding her axe above her head. “Let’s send this guy back to hell.” 

They slide down the side of the crater and land at the bottom. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith sees Dawn and Willow and Tara going off to the left while Xander and Anya head to the right. And then it’s just her and Buffy, the way Faith likes it best.

Buffy nudges her. “Ready?”

“Always.”

The two of them stand there for one second longer, Faith taking a moment to memorize the gleam in Buffy’s eyes and the determined line of her jaw, and then they raise their weapons and charge across the floor of the pit towards the demon and the rising temple. 

Asmodeus turns, sensing them somehow, and roars in anger. He waves a hand in the air and slams it against the temple, sending a shockwave through the air. Then he starts towards them, face contorted with fiery rage, and the battle begins.

Faith knows that the slightest mistake in this fight will probably cost her life, and she feels great about it.

She slashes the demon across the leg, causing a flow of black blood, and is rewarded by the sound of Asmodeus howling in pain. Off to Faith’s left, Buffy slams her axe into the demon’s back.

“Puny humans,” Asmodeus sneers, pulling the axe out of his back and throwing it across the crater. “You are not even worth the time it would take to crush you underfoot.”

“But lemme guess,” Faith says. “You’re going to do it anyways?” She nods to Buffy. “Go get the axe. I’ll keep him busy for a minute.”

As Buffy runs to retrieve the axe, Asmodeus kicks Faith hard, knocking the wind out of her. Faith doubles over but manages to stab him in the foot as she does. 

“You cannot hope to defeat me!” Asmodeus roars. “As this tower rises, my strength grows. I will destroy the two of you and your friends and then burn this world to the ground.”

“Sounds kinda violent,” Faith says. “Any chance you wanna try therapy sessions instead?”

Asmodeus punches her in the face, sending her sliding backwards. Buffy runs in, axe now back in her hands, and takes a swing at Asmodeus, but the demon dodges and hits her in the ribs. 

Faith glances at the tower, and she’s dismayed to see that it’s taller than it was when they first arrived. At least two and a half feet of obsidian stone is visible now, and the thing keeps rising. 

Asmodeus seems to be rising right along with it. He’s at least six inches taller now, and his body is flickering with little flames.

“Alright, not ideal,” Faith mutters to herself. She charges Asmodeus again, slashing at his arms with her sword. She’s getting somewhere - inflicting wounds, at least - but then Asmodeus gets tired of her. He backhands her, sends her halfway across the crater. Then he turns on Buffy, ripping the axe from her hands and slamming the flat of the weapon into her chest. Faith’s stomach clenches, thanking whatever gods exist that it wasn’t the blade side going into Buffy. 

“You are weak,” Asmodeus says. He picks Buffy up and throws her through the air, sending her to land next to Faith. 

Faith rolls to her feet, dragging Buffy up with her. “Nice of you to drop in,” she says with a grin. Gallows humor. 

Buffy frowns. “This isn’t working. I think the temple is making him stronger.”   


“Well, what are we supposed to do with this?” Faith asks. “We have to keep trying. Not like he’s gonna lie down and die if we ask nicely.”

“We’ll have to try and pinch him. You go left, I’ll go right.” 

Faith nods, running to the left as Buffy mirrors her movement on the other side. They trap Asmodeus between them, then attack at the same time. Faith’s sword slashes across the demon’s side, and he roars.

“Hit him again,” Buffy yells. “I think this is working.” 

Faith grits her teeth and swings the sword again, catching Asmodeus’s hand and slicing off a few of the claws. Buffy chops into his arm with the axe. Asmodeus bends over, and for a moment Faith thinks they might be winning. 

That thought is disproven when Asmodeus straightens up again and slams a fist into her ribcage so hard that Faith hears something crack. She falls to the ground in pain, and she’s forced to watch helplessly as Asmodeus punches Buffy in the face, beating her to the ground and kicking her. Buffy curls into a ball, trying to avoid the blows, rolling backwards away from the demon. He kicks her in the chest and Buffy goes limp. Faith’s heart sinks.

Faith gets up again and Asmodeus is on her in seconds, picking her up and swinging her against the obsidian tower. Faith’s face smashes into the unyielding stone, and her mouth fills with blood. 

Asmodeus swings her again and then drops her like dirty laundry, throwing her down next to Buffy. He turns to the tower, which is rising faster now, and starts chanting. 

Faith crawls over to Buffy, her ribs feeling like they’re on fire, her hair singed from being so close to Asmodeus’s fire. “He’s kinda strong,” she admits.

Buffy spits out blood. “More like too strong. Stronger than us.”

Asmodeus keeps chanting and the ground starts shaking like there’s an earthquake, clouds of dust flying up, the sides of the crater starting to crumble. The tower rises more, sliding out of the ground at a higher speed. Faith can see windows now, and what looks like the top of a door.

The earth trembles again, more violently. Faith’s head feels like it’s been cracked open, and her ribs are burning. Across the crater, Faith can see Willow and Xander, hemmed in by demons, fighting a losing battle. 

“Yes,” Asmodeus roars triumphantly. “We are almost restored. And this time, nothing and no one shall stand in our way.”

Faith watches numbly as everything falls apart around her, half tempted to give in to the pain and slide into unconsciousness. She’s so very tired.

“Faith,” Buffy says, and that snaps Faith back, if only temporarily. “We’re not going to win this. The temple is almost risen.”

“Ah, come on,” Faith says. “Is that any way to talk?”

Buffy shoves at her shoulder, and Faith is alarmed at how weak the touch is. “We can’t beat him, Faith. You need to kill me.”

Faith jerks away from Buffy, her stomach turning. “I  _ what? _ ”

“It’ll break the spell,” Buffy mumbles, a trail of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. “It’ll send him back to hell, it’ll undo the resurrection. I just know it.”

Faith feels tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Here she was, hiding the truth from Buffy, and Buffy knew all along. “B, I can’t. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t,” Buffy insists. “Faith, please - ” 

“No,” Faith says. “ _ No _ . I’ll kill him. I’ll end this.” 

Buffy shakes her head weakly. “You’ll die.”

“Then I’ll die stopping him,” Faith says, tasting something bitter in the back of her throat. “If one of us has to die today, it’s going to be me.”

“Why you?” Buffy asks in frustration. “You dying won’t end it, it’s only me who can…” 

“Because the world needs you,” Faith says, cutting Buffy off. “They can’t lose you again. They need you to survive. Me on the other hand, I’m fine as a casualty. No one needs me.” 

“ _ I _ need you,” Buffy breathes out, her eyes locked on Faith’s. “You can’t die. I died to save the world once already, there’s no reason I can’t do it again.” 

“No,” Faith says, almost yelling now. “It’s not going to be you. I’m going to kill him.” She struggles to her knees, drags her fingers through the dirt on the shaking floor of the crater until she finds the hilt of her sword. 

“Don’t die,” Buffy says, still looking straight into Faith’s eyes. “Faith, please. Don’t die.”

Faith doesn’t answer, just leans forward and presses a kiss to Buffy’s forehead. And then she’s getting herself to her feet again, her sword weighing her down like a concrete block, staggering across the ground towards Asmodeus and the tower.

Asmodeus turns to her, his face set in an amused snarl. “Come to face your death? Perhaps you are not so pathetic after all.” 

“I’m not here to face my death,” Faith says, shoving some bravado into her voice. “I’m here to cause yours.” 

Asmodeus laughs, but Faith isn’t listening. She’s too busy gathering her strength to sprint towards Asmodeus, sword in hand, body aching but still moving. She runs past the demon and straight at the obsidian tower, which is now at least eight feet tall. The black stone is slick as glass under her boots but Faith keeps going, fighting her way up the slanted surface of the tower until she’s higher than Asmodeus. 

Asmodeus turns to look at her, surprise written across his face, and Faith crouches above him, tensing every muscle in her body in readiness. “Say goodbye, assface,” she yells, and launches herself off the tower. 

The wind rushes by her ears and her vision threatens to go black, but Faith forces herself to concentrate, to turn at just the right moment, to flip through the air and tighten her hold on the sword a split second before she drives the blade straight through Asmodeus’s heart.

Faith loses her grip as the sword stabs into the demon. She falls to the ground, feeling her already broken ribs go from cracked to something that feels more like shattered. There’s a weird sort of burning sensation in her stomach, her chest. Internal bleeding, probably.

Asmodeus throws his head back and roars, and then falls to his knees. The tower stops rising as the demon crumbles into a heap, flames flying off of him and setting the dirt of the crater alight, his red eyes fierce even on the door of death.

“This is not the end,” Asmodeus hisses, his teeth bared. “I am just the vanguard. The First is coming, and it shall be the last for you.”

Faith raises a hand and weakly flips him the bird. She rolls over and finds a rock on the ground, then rolls towards Asmodeus and slams the rock into his head. He thrashes once and goes still, and Faith slumps to the ground next to his body, gasping as the pain overwhelms her and the whole sky fades into white.

//

Being dead isn’t as permanent as Faith thought it would be.

Either that or she’s not actually dead, because she’s lying on a cold, hard surface, and she can see a high, vaulted white ceiling overhead. 

Faith sits up and pats at her body, wondering why she’s not feeling any pain. The room that she’s in is bright, and she squints a little bit, trying to get her bearings.

“Greetings,” says a voice from behind her. Faith turns to see two people, a man and a woman, standing before an arched stone gateway. The gates are thrown open, but Faith can’t see anything beyond them except for a golden-white light that must be the source of the room’s brightness.

Oh, and the people are golden. Solid, twenty four karat golden. Their clothes are white, but their skin is shinier than any precious metal on earth.

It occurs to Faith that maybe she is dead after all. 

“Uh,” Faith says, standing up. “Where am I? Who are you? Am I dead?”

The woman smiles at her. “Faith Lehane. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Faith frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You are not dead,” the man says. “Yet.”

Faith doesn’t like the way he says  _ yet _ . She looks around the room again, fruitlessly trying to make sense of this. “Why am I here?”

“We offer you a choice,” the woman says. “You are near death, and that is why we were able to bring you here. We would know your decision.” 

“What decision?”   


The man rests a hand on one of the gates. “Will you go on?” He gestures towards the space beyond the gates. 

Faith blinks against the brightness as she tries to look into the light. “Go on where? Is that heaven or something?”

“One might say it is,” the woman replies, her expression unamused and serious.

Faith blinks. Heaven, or something like it, just a few steps away. 

Heaven, where Buffy was.

“You’ve walked a long path to get here,” the man says. “Many obstacles, many pitfalls. We doubted that you’d ever get here.” 

“That makes two of us,” Faith mutters. She can’t believe she’s being invited to heaven. There must have been some kind of paperwork mixup at the desk of the Pearly Gates.

The man waves his hand and ghostly images fill the space in the room, shapes turning into people. After a moment, Faith recognizes them as herself. Fifteen year old Faith, picking up a stake for the first time. Seventeen year old Faith, walking through an alley behind the Bronze. Nineteen year old Faith, sitting on a bench in prison. 

And others; five year old Faith hiding behind the sofa back in the apartment in Boston, ten year old Faith sneaking past the sleeping form of her mother, thirteen year old Faith shoplifting candy bars from her local store.

“You have had a troubled past,” the man says. “And you have not always been on the side of light. However, you are dying because you defeated a threat to the world, and because of this, we offer you a place in heaven. Will you accept?”

Faith stares into the light until her eyes start to water. She’s really here. She’s redeemed herself. She’s good enough to reach heaven. 

And yet as Faith stands there at the entrance to heaven, all she can see are the faces of the people she’d be leaving behind. The images of herself fade away, and are suddenly replaced with other memories.

Angel, sitting behind the glass of the prison visiting room, phone held to his ear.  _ The road to redemption is a rocky path. Think we might make it? _

Giles, raising a mug of tea.  _ Buffy will find the right path, Faith. And something tells me you’ll be walking it with her. _

Willow, standing in the doorway of the Magic Box.  _ You’re a different person now. _

And Buffy, her face bloody, staring at Faith as they lie broken and battered on the dusty ground.  _ Don’t die. Faith, please.  _

Faith closes her eyes for a moment, picturing Buffy’s face - her faint freckles, her wavy golden hair, her bright green eyes sparkling. 

_ Faith, please. Don’t die. _

“Will you accept?” the golden-skinned man asks, sounding slightly impatient now. 

Faith opens her eyes, takes one last look at the gates and the light of heaven, then turns away from it. “No. I don’t accept it.”

“No?” the woman asks, her voice incredulous. “You are refusing heaven?”

“Damn right I am,” Faith says. “If I get back here, it’ll be because I earned it again. But right now, I got more stuff to do. My road to redemption might be ended, but I’m not ready to get off the highway yet, ya feel?”

“Very well,” the man and woman say in unison. “Farewell, Faith Lehane.” They raise their hands to the gates and slam them closed with a resounding crash, and the light disappears from view. As the darkness rushes in around her, Faith closes her eyes again.

//

She wakes up coughing, her chest feeling like someone took a baseball bat to her ribs. She’s still lying on a hard surface, but she can tell that it’s dirt and not marble. If the pain is anything to go by, she’s back on earth. 

“Faith,” Buffy’s voice says, and Faith notices that her head is resting on something soft. After a moment, she realizes that it’s Buffy’s legs. 

Faith cracks an eye open to see Buffy’s face hovering above her, covered in blood and dirt and looking more worried than Faith has ever seen her. The sun necklace that Faith gave her is hanging from her neck, the metal chain shining in the sun.

“Hey,” Faith manages to say. “You’re uh, Buffy, right?” She grins, remembering the night that she first said those words, four years ago.

“Oh my god,” Buffy says, starting to laugh. “You’re alive.”

“Alive and kicking,” Faith says. “Why, were you hoping otherwise?”

“Shut up,” Buffy says, gently brushing her fingers through Faith’s hair. “You stopped breathing, Faith. I couldn’t hear your heartbeat for almost two minutes.”

Faith raises an eyebrow. “That so, B? Maybe you just didn’t have the volume turned up.”

Other faces appear above her - Tara, Willow, Dawn, Anya, Xander. All of them have cuts and scrapes, but none look seriously injured.

“You killed it,” Dawn says, sounding impressed. “You really killed it.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Faith says. “I had that bastard all the way.”

With Buffy’s help, Faith eases herself to a sitting position. They’re sitting on the ground beside the construction trailer, facing towards the pit. The crater is still there but the sides have caved in, sending mounds of dirt sliding to the bottom. The tower is gone, and the pentacle is gone too. 

“He said something before he died,” Faith recalls. “Asmodeus, I mean. Said that the First was coming.”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Buffy says. “Let’s get you home.”

As Faith limps along, supported between Buffy and Tara, she stares up at the blue sky and allows herself a smile through all of the pain.

//

Faith passes out again almost as soon as they’re back at the house. 

When she finally wakes, it’s nighttime. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s lying in Buffy’s bed, her limbs sprawled out and taking up the entire space, and a moment longer to realize that Buffy’s fast asleep on the floor next to the bed. 

Faith stretches, feeling her body protest as the movement sends pain shooting through her again. She groans softly and Buffy stirs, jerking awake. 

“Look who decided to finally wake up,” Buffy says. 

“Look who decided to share their bed,” Faith replies. “Again. If you’re not careful, you’ll have me thinking that you like me.”

“I do like you, stupid.”

Faith’s heart speeds up, but she’s careful to keep her voice casual. “So you like me but you’re calling me stupid, huh. Kinda getting mixed messages here, B.”

Buffy sighs. “You know, I liked it better when you were unconscious, after all.” 

“Me too,” Faith says, feeling her ribs send out another wave of pain. She grimaces, grits her teeth against the feeling. “If you don’t need me for anything, I think I’m gonna fall out of consciousness again.”

“Alright,” Buffy says, her tone softer now. “As long as you come back.”

“I’ll always come back,” Faith murmurs, smiling now. If only Buffy knew how true those words were.

//

Even with Slayer healing, it’s a week and a half until Faith is enough to walk around the house without falling over. She knows this the hard way, because she tried to go downstairs on her own after five days of bed rest and ended up tumbling down the steps like someone shoved her.

(Dawn laughed herself sick when it happened. Buffy rolled her eyes and dragged Faith back upstairs, telling her to keep resting or she’d tie her to the bed, and pretended not to blush when Faith asked if that was a threat or a promise.)

But after ten incredibly boring days, Faith is finally better. She goes downstairs on the eleventh morning and makes herself a bowl of cereal, and it feels like a major accomplishment. 

“You better not be finishing the rest of the cereal,” Dawn says, frowning at her.

Faith throws the empty box at her. “I almost died saving the world. I think that deserves at least one box of cereal.”

Dawn rolls her eyes but finds a banana and a plate of toast and sits down to eat next to her. Faith is surprised at how natural it feels. 

“Hey,” Dawn says, poking Faith just as she spoons more cereal into her mouth. Faith splutters, almost choking.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s not a good idea to stab someone while they’re eating?” Faith asks, onc she can breathe again.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dawn mumbles. “Listen, I, uh - thank you.”

“For what?”

“For protecting Buffy,” Dawn says. “I know you almost died killing that thing instead of letting her die to fix the spell. And I just wanted to thank you for keeping your promise.”

Faith shrugs offhandedly. “It’d be pretty shitty of me to let her die just to save the world. Once is more than enough when it comes to that, ya know?”

Dawn grins, and Faith slides her bowl of cereal over. “Do you want the rest?”

“You already ate half of it, that's gross.” 

“So you don’t want it?”

“I didn’t say that. Hand over the spoon.”

Faith gives Dawn the spoon and watches her dig in, wondering when exactly she got so fond of the girl.

//

When Faith goes up to Buffy’s room that night, she finds Buffy already there, sitting on the bed with her back resting against the headboard.

“Oh, hey,” Faith says. “You probably want your room back now that I’m no longer dying.” She feels a little guilty about kicking Buffy out of her own bed for almost two weeks. There’s no way that the floor is as comfortable as Buffy keeps insisting it is.

“It would be nice to sleep in my bed again,” Buffy admits. “But uh, that doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

Faith grins and hops onto the bed, stretching out next to Buffy, deliberately taking up some of Buffy’s space. Buffy shoves at her leg, but there’s no force behind the push.

“Hey,” Buffy says after a moment of quiet. “Can we talk about something?”

“I don’t know,” Faith teases. “Can we?” She smiles, tries to keep it light, because she has a feeling that Buffy’s trying to get serious for some reason, and she’s not sure if she’s ready for that.

Buffy takes a deep breath, seems like she’s bracing for something. “So...we kind of have this thing between us, right?”

Fuck, Faith really doesn’t want to talk about this. Her voice goes flat as she says, “Uh, I guess.” 

“Faith - ” 

‘Don’t,” Faith says, starting to slide off the bed, her heart hurting worse than her ribs now. “I get it, okay? It’s not the same for you, it won’t happen again, yada yada yada. We’ll be friends. End of story.”

Buffy grabs her wrist, keeping her in place. “God, you’re still a bad listener after all this time.”

Faith sighs. “Okay. You got one minute. Talk.” 

Buffy lets go of Faith’s wrist, but leaves her hand touching Faith’s arm. “I know I was hurting you every time we...you know. I want to apologize, okay? I - this will sound kind of messed up, but I was punishing myself.”

“Great,” Faith says shortly. “Sleeping with me is a punishment. Good to know.” Despite the way Buffy’s words are making her heart feel like it’s in free fall, Faith can’t bring herself to move away from Buffy’s touch. It simultaneously makes this conversation better and worse.

“No,” Buffy says softly. “Sleeping with you was...amazing. The punishment was leaving afterwards.”

Faith freezes.

“Look, I just - ” Buffy pauses, and Faith can see her mentally sorting through the words. “When I first came back, everything felt wrong and painful and fake, and I didn’t feel like I was real, or alive. I didn’t think I deserved to be alive again. And being with you made all those feelings go away, just for a while, and I thought that was wrong too because now I didn’t feel bad enough. I thought I should be miserable, and that’s why I kept leaving.”

“Oh,” Faith murmurs.

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “And now - ” 

“And now?” Faith asks, letting all of her hope show on her face, not holding anything back now, wondering if Buffy can hear the pounding of her stupidly aching heart.

Buffy pulls Faith closer, and Faith doesn’t resist. “The two of us have never been able to get anything right. We’ve fucked up so many times, and we both know that. But we’re not the same as we used to be, and this isn’t the same as it used to be, and I want to do it right this time.”

Faith nods, and Buffy leans in to kiss her. 

It’s soft and sweet, and Faith melts into it. She’s never been kissed like this before, never  _ let _ herself be kissed like this before, and it’s a revelation. She kisses Buffy like it means something, and knows that this time, it does.

Buffy pulls back, running her thumb over Faith’s lip, and Faith leans into the touch. “Good?” 

“Five by five,” Faith says. The corners of Buffy’s mouth curve upward, and Faith kisses her right in the middle of the smile. 

And when the kisses eventually turn heated and Faith and Buffy’s clothes come off and fall to the floor, it’s different too. Buffy is soft with her, pressing kisses against Faith’s skin, murmuring unmistakably loving things to her, and Faith slows down the pace enough to really feel it, to savor every moment. 

When Faith finally makes Buffy come, Buffy’s lips are forming three unmistakable words, and Faith doesn’t even need to hear it out loud to know that it’s true.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, and when Faith wakes up, Buffy is right there with her. She’s still sleeping, her head resting in the space between Faith’s head and her shoulder, the fingers of one hand loosely woven together with Faith’s. 

Faith lies back in the ray of sunlight streaming in through the window and knows that they’ve finally gotten it right.

//

Willow leaves Sunnydale to join Giles in England. There’s a coven there that will help her control her powers, she explains to them. Faith thinks it’s a good idea, knows it will be good for Willow. 

It still sucks when they drive her to the airport and wave goodbye as she boards the flight. 

Tara and Dawn are both crying as Willow gives them one last hug, and even Faith feels a little bit teary as she folds Willow in a quick, rough embrace that almost passes for a hug. 

“Be careful over there,” Faith says as she lets go. “If you come back to us wearing a tweed coat or sipping from a cup of tea, I’ll kick you right across the ocean again.” 

Willow gives her a watery smile and turns to hug Buffy and Xander. Faith watches as she says her final goodbyes and then disappears into the boarding tunnel with a flash of red, and she’s surprised at how sad she is to see Willow go.

Buffy bumps her shoulder lightly. “You alright there, Faith? I could swear that you almost look sad about Willow leaving.”

“Fuck off,” Faith says, swiping at her. “I’ll be glad to have her gone. Then maybe I won’t have to listen to her and Tara fucking all night.”

Tara’s hand flies to her mouth. “You could hear us?”

“Uh, I think the whole house could hear you,” Dawn says. “Not that Faith and Buffy are any better.” She shoots them a smug look, and Buffy turns bright red. 

Xander opens his mouth, and Faith covers it before he can get a word out. “Keep the gross comments to yourself, dude.” She marches for the exit, determined to make it back to the car before anyone else accuses her of feeling emotions.

Buffy catches up to her. “Don’t worry,” she says quietly. “I’m gonna miss her too.”

Faith just scoffs. As they walk out the airport doors, Buffy grabs her hand and Faith doesn’t pull away.

//

“It’s not the same without her,” Faith admits a couple nights later. She and Buffy are sitting on the steps of the porch, watching as the sun sets over the town.

Buffy gives her a smile that’s slightly sad at the edges. “I know. Still, it’s not like the house is empty now.”

“Too right,” Faith mutters. “Nothing like trading away a powerful witch and getting three dumb teenage girls in exchange for it.”

“And that’s just the first of them,” Buffy says. “Giles says there’s dozens more Potentials, all needing training.”

“Guess we’ll need them to fight the First, if what G man says is true,” Faith muses. “You worried about it?”

Buffy waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, I’m not. You hear that they’re rebuilding Sunnydale High? That’s the real evil to worry about.”

Faith laughs, and Buffy does too. Above them, the sky is streaked with soft orange and gold clouds. Faith watches the colors slowly melt into each other as the sun sinks below the horizon.

“The sunset’s kinda sad, isn’t it?” Faith says. “It’s pretty, but it’s like an ending.”

“Depends on which way you look at it, I guess,” Buffy says. “But the sun will still be back tomorrow.”

Faith shrugs. “Why wait until tomorrow? It’s right here.” She reaches out and gently tugs the sun-shaped charm on Buffy’s necklace, then kisses her softly. 

Buffy smiles at her, eyes bright and alive, happiness written all over her face. Faith leans into Buffy and Buffy leans back, and there they are, the Chosen Two, sitting on a porch beneath the setting sun and knowing that whatever the future may bring, they’ll finally have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap. i know my posting schedule didn't reflect it but i wrote this fic in fourteen days straight while running on nothing but sugar and faith-and-buffy induced insanity and honestly i'm impressed with myself, so i hope you all enjoyed being along for the ride. leave a comment or kudo, or come follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thymewars)

**Author's Note:**

> hope y'all like this fic so far. comments and kudos are always welcome <3


End file.
